Dick Grayson: A Finale Remix
by ShipsbyNoa
Summary: In the season finale, Trigon traps Dick in a dreamscape that begins with him living a domestic life, but soon takes a turn, pushing him on a dark journey back to Gotham where he'll finally have to face Bruce, and himself. A multi-chap, finale remix. [in which Kory and Donna become BFFs, Gar's powers grow, Rachel deals with a family reunion and Dick is emotionally tortured.]
1. Chapter 1

Pairing: Dick & Kory

Other Characters: Donna Troy, Trigon & Angela

* * *

Dick enters the house with clenched fists, ready to confront, to fight, even die to get Rachel and Gar out of there, but what he finds is nothing. It's still. Quiet. He already knows what Kory will say and what Donna will do to him, if they get the chance. He tried his luck and he got through the shimmer, and maybe it's for the best that they didn't follow behind. Because he's a selfish prick who doesn't want the women he cares about in the same room as a demon, he doesn't care what they can do. He can only worry about two of them at a time and Rachel and Gar are with said demon, so they win.

The door clicks shut behind him and he takes in the setting he left only hours ago. Remnants of the shattered table remain scattered across the floor and glass from the broken picture frames he and Gar crashed into crunch beneath his boots.

Blood. Specks of blood stain the rug, blood that wasn't there when he left. "Rachel. Gar." He calls. "Rachel," his heart is shrinking, clenching as though it's being closed in a vice.

The air in the room shifts, thickens. He isn't alone. There's a static forming around him, sharp and biting, tugging the hairs all over his body towards it. He takes a few steps forward, but each step seems to take more effort.

"Welcome home," a man's voice says. A voice that can only belong to Rachel's father.

"Show yourself, you fucking coward," Dick growls, clenching his fists so tight his nails dig into his palms.

The veil he didn't know was there drops, revealing Rachel, Gar and Angela behind it. Trigon stands in front of them as though they belong to him, and Dick's blood begins to boil.

"Dick," Rachel cries, but Angela has her arm.

Gar is tucked behind Rachel, and he can see the fear, but he can't move to them, he can't move at all. He wills himself forward, but limb by limb stiffens, ignoring his commands even as Trigon approaches him. Still, he's too angry to be afraid, too desperate to panic because his eyes are trained on the teenagers and they need him.

"Dick Grayson," the man's voice is inside his head this time.

"What are you going to do?" Dick goads, narrowing his eyes on the demon. "Huh. Kill me? Go ahead. It won't end there."

"Oh, I don't want to kill you. What kind of man do you think I am?" Trigon tilts his head, taking Dick in from head to toe. His face cracks wide open with an impressive grin. He moves closer, so close the tip of his nose brushes against Dick's cheek. He breathes him in, deep and long before exhaling. "I like this one." His eyes find Angela briefly. Then he drags his thumb across Dick's forehead, collecting the tiny beads of sweat forming there, and examines it. "I know there are more where you came from."

"What are you doing?" Rachel asks, and steps forward, panicked. "Leave him alone."

Trigon holds his hands up in surrender and his voice is playful when he responds, "I just want to get to know him, that's all," he returns to Dick and leans into his ear. "I want to find all the dark little corners. All your secrets, regrets, mistakes. Your shame." He shivers with excitement and pulls back.

Dick is breathing hard, so hard his throat is dry. The man's smile is insolent, and his demeanor boasts self-importance. He isn't as unique as he thinks he is. Dick has seen him time and again in different forms with different powers. Bad guys are all the same. They want to rule or destroy. Their desires are cliché. Basic. Predictable. They lack nuance, diversity, and his fucking patience. "I'm going to kill you." He promises.

Trigon clucks his tongue. "Unrealistic," he says simply, and regrettably. "Start small. Lower the expectation that this will go any other way than I want it to and you can avoid disappointment. I would start with; survive the night, and work my way up," he flashes a grin that fades all too quickly, giving Dick a glimpse at the thing beneath the meat suit.

"Dick, you okay?" Gar's voice breaks into the room, quietly, and distressed. "What do we do?"

"I'm okay." Dick says, with as much calm as he can muster, but the boys fear makes him want to explode because while Bruce may have thought it a good idea to expose _him_ to all the fucked-up shit in their backyard, he wanted to shield them, despite their gifts. And when they found Angela it became a possibility. He wanted normal for them. Mundane. Vanilla. He still does. This shouldn't be their life. "You don't do anything, OK, I'm going to get you out here. I promise."

Dick pulls, and strains, and grunts until the veins in his neck are bulging.

"Dad, please," Rachel is desperately trying to unpeel herself from Angela.

"Shhh," Trigon drags out, until Rachel's cries die on her lips, and she is still and unsure if she should only be afraid for Dick.

And Dick wants to rip the smug-faced demon apart piece by piece. He can't wait. He can practically hear bone breaking, he can feel warm blood on his fists, taste the metal on his tongue, and he won't stop, he'll keep going until there is nothing left.

He is in a simmering, trapped rage, and the sensation is not new to him. At the asylum he was trapped in a chair and locked in a drug fueled fantasy, unable to unleash all the ugly bubbling up to the surface. But he got his chance once they escaped.

He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, trying to focus his mind, because he will get that chance again. This fiery sensation climbing him like a jungle gym will fall on Trigon's head, he vows.

Trigon crosses the room to hold Rachel against him. "Don't worry, sweet child," he strokes her hair, but Dick sees her tear filled eyes on him. "I know how much you care about this one," he nods over his shoulder and then to Gar, "and that one," then he turns to the front door. "and the one outside," looking down at her with furrowed eyebrows, playing the concerned parent, he softens his voice. "I won't hurt them, any of them, but I will need something from you in return."

Rachel pulls away and nods. "I'll do anything,"

"No, Rachel, don't." Dick pleads, roaring against his invisible restraints. And he starts to move his fingers and his foot presses forward. His body is responding to him, unlocking.

"Good." Trigon says, spinning on his heel to face Dick. "Go to sleep."

* * *

"Dick." Dick is still. Expressionless. "Dick?" Rachel calls. His eyes are open but they're empty. He's staring into nothing and Rachel can't stop the tears because this is all her fault. She takes his hand into hers, but he doesn't hold it back. "What did you do? Why isn't he moving?"

Trigon exaggerates a huff. "Remember when I said I needed something from you and you said anything?" he tilts his head and his face hardens. "Don't touch him again," his voice is layered, and beneath it she hears a monster. "I can't have you talking to him or touching him, or he could get trapped forever." He strokes her face. "You don't want that, do you, for him to be a prisoner?"

"No," Rachel cries, turning her face to move from his touch.

His face relaxes, and his tone is light again. "You have my word, I won't break anything," he bends his knees to level his eyes with hers. "I promise."

Rachel glances at Dick and his fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are blanched. "Is he in pain?"

"No, no, no," He sings. "No, my child," he lets go of her shoulders, and his eyes fall on Angela.

She comes up behind Rachel and hugs her shoulder, resting her chin in the groove of her neck. "Your dad's doing this for you. If Dick passes this test, he can come with us. You won't have to split up, don't you want that-?"

Rachel glances at Gar. "Yes, but-,"

"You want to control what's inside of you, right?" Angela strokes Rachel's cheek, and then moves into her hair where she combs her fingers through it, soothing and reassuring. "Only your father can help you do that," she hums, "without him, you could really hurt them one day. You wouldn't mean to, but you would." Angela rubs her arm next. "Look what happened with Gar when he tried to comfort you – what you did to your friend, Kory."

Rachel's head snaps to her mother, and her eyes are wide, and filling with tears. "I didn't mean to,"

"Sweetie, I know," Angela coos. "You didn't mean to make her crazy, but that's why you need mommy and daddy." She cups Rachel's face. "This way, Dick can come with us, and Gar – and your father, he can fix Kory, too. Undo what _you_ did to her. Would you like that?"

Rachel blinks away the tears, sniffing. "Would it hurt her?"

"No, honey," Angela laughs. "Your father heals. Cleanses. Renews. He saved Gar. He was dying and your father brought him back. We can all be together, on the same side. Don't you want that? You wouldn't have to choose."

Trigon is nodding, and his eyes are soft, and concerned.

Rachel swallows, and then shakes her head. "I don't know. I think so."

"Everything is going to be fine." Angela rests her head on Rachel's shoulder. "You believe me, don't you?"

Rachel feels a searing panic building in her chest. Everything is not going to be fine, but her father did save Gar and she did hurt Kory, and she finally found her mother.

But she's felt unsafe before, she knows the feeling intimately, and she feels it now. It isn't enough to have it all if she can only have it like this. Dick, Kory and Gar protected her and kept her safe when she had no one, they accepted her even when she was terrified of what she was.

She can feel her mother drawing circles in her palm and she knows the only way to protect them back is to play along. She turns in her mother's arms and hugs her tight.

"Oh," Angela's sigh is orgasmic. "That's it."

Rachel's eyes land on Gar who has crammed himself between the wall and the piano. His frown lines deepen with a question for her, until she smiles, and then he nods, and she hopes he has his answer. He's still with her. He knows her. He trusts her. She closes her eyes and holds her mother tighter. "Mom."

"I've got you." Angela whispers, stroking the back of Rachel's head.

Trigon slaps his hands together, and then wipes a faux tear from his eye. "Perfect," he says, "one big happy family," he clears his throat, rolling his shoulders back and returns to Dick. "Hi Dick. Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Then stillness. He's isn't quite as far as Dick seems to be, but he is gone.

Rachel peels herself away from Angela. "What's he doing – is he – inside Dick's head?"

Angela's smile widens. "He's going to teach you all of this, everything you need to know," she claps her hands in excitement. "You have no idea, Rachel. The things you can do, how powerful you really are."

Rachel swallows. Maybe she can do this. She's touched Dick's mind before, and Gars and Rita, even the frozen girl in Chief's lab. She's seen things, felt things and most recently, felt - Kory.

She focuses on Dick. She watched her father touch him and wonders if maybe that's how it works, touch used as a gateway to something more than just feeling, but a door into the mind. If she can figure out a way to stay once she's in the door, maybe she can help Dick out.

She swallows and takes a step, but she's hauled back by her arm. "Ow," she cries, rushing her hand over her mother's.

"What are you doing?" her mother asks, her face turned to stone.

"I just wanted to make sure Dick was OK." Rachel's insides turn cold and the hairs on the back of her neck stand when she meets her mother's eyes. There is a look in her eyes she's seeing for the first time, a darkness, a black glare pooling behind the blue. This woman is not her mother, not anymore. Maybe she never was, not like Melissa. "I'm sorry."

Her mother's features relax and her mouth breaks into a smile. "It's okay, sweetheart." She pulls Rachel into her. "It's okay. It's all going to be perfect. You'll see. All you have to do - is wait."

* * *

Kory's throat burns with effort as she screams, blasting the shimmer with the last bit of fire she has inside of her, but it simply ripples in response. "Fuck." She roars.

Donna stands beside it, and she can feel the heat rippling. "Is it more shimmery?" She quips. "I feel like it's more shimmery, huh," she stands back eyeing it closer. "well fuck you, shimmer." She turns to Kory.

The shipowner with the best color lips, and killer boots is quiet, her forehead is marred by worry, and her fists are clenched almost as tight as her jaw. This woman whom she's just met does nothing to mask her panic, she's exposed and vulnerable and doesn't care. Donna's feeling a little panicky herself, but one of them needs to stay enthusiastic and she has enough enthusiasm for them both. "We're getting in there." She assures.

"How?" Kory swallows. "I don't have anything left, and your little whip is no help,"

"My little whip?" Donna raises her eyebrows, amused. She could respond, she wants to but realizes her coping mechanism being 'a little banter' is clearly not in Kory's skill set. She's only getting angrier. "OK, let's think – we need a plan."

Kory's pacing now. "We can't even get past this thing,"

"But when we do, we'll need a plan – we need to know what we're up against, before we rush in half-cocked."

"You mean like, Dick?" Kory opens her palms, and strains, willing fire to bolt from her hands but it simmers to nothing.

Kory's tone is unforgiving, and Donna can't blame her. He can't seem to get it into his thick skull that people care about him, and therefore, he can't just run off, or away whenever he feels like it. She can't wait to save him, so she can kick his ass, amazon-style. "There must be a reason Dick got in, like maybe, Trigon wanted him to. Just him."

There it is again, Kory's jaw clenching and her eyes glossing over, and Donna realizes everyone she cares about is inside that house. They're literally the only people on Earth she has and Donna's heart sinks at the thought. Earlier at the house, all she saw was a danger, but now, between discovering she's some intergalactic warrior tasked with saving her world, and theirs, and watching her will fire from her being to get inside, she realized danger and dangerous was not the same. And dangerous was exactly what they needed.

Donna steps into Kory's view with her hands up, and Kory stops pacing. "We don't know each other, OK, but we care about the same people, so we need to work together. I have something I think may be strong enough to break us through, but it's back in the truck."

Kory scoffs. "We can't leave." There's a challenge in her tone.

Donna huffs and her shoulders sag. "They're alive,"

"How do you know?" another challenge, geez, she's unyielding.

Donna figures she may as well share seen as all they have is each other. Besides, Kory has already shown her hers, and trust must be reflected, Diana taught her that. "I can," she shrugs inconsequentially, "I can hear their heart beats. Everyone is still alive," she says, quickly adding, "for now."

Silence fills the chilly night air and Kory is unreadable, dammit.

"You can hear their hearts," Kory says, without incredulity, as she twists her ring back and forth. "OK, then."

"We need to go now." Donna moves towards the woods. "Do you think you can trust me?"

Kory nods.

What Donna doesn't share is that one of those heart beats has slowed down, bordering on bradycardia, and two have risen significantly higher since Dick went in there. But bad news wasn't going to help, so she swallowed it down, and hoped she and Kory would be enough. "OK, warrior woman. Let's haul ass."

Donna starts running once she's sure Kory is going with her, and they dive into the woods.


	2. Chapter 2: Dawn

A/N: There are two stories being told along side each other; what's happening while Dick is trapped in Trigon's dream and the dream life Dick's living. It's a little messy in there, and angsty, so buckle up.

Thank you for the review, Vi. :)

* * *

"Daddy, catch me,"

Dick shakes the water from his hair and opens his arms to the little boy standing by the pool. "Come on, I got you," he promises, pinching the water from his eyes. The boy runs and leaps into the air and Dick catches him with a splash as he falls back into the water. They're laughing, and splashing, but Jason's visit is still weighing on him, and so is Dawn's opinion.

This is his vacation, away from work, away from the precinct. He's supposed to be relaxing, enjoying his family, and the weather. He deserves this break after his last case, of which the gruesome details still niggle at the back of his mind, keeping him up at night. Dick promised he wouldn't bring it home with him, and he knows he got the right guy, but he also knows he saw a man with four eyes hiding behind his face. And that man was in the wind with the murderer claiming the Devil made him do it.

Deep down he knows it's only a matter of time before picking the scab gets to be too much, before he has to see what's underneath. His gut is telling him the case isn't closed, but rather ajar, and _that's his life – not Gotham, and not Bruce. Not anymore._

"Dick," Dawn stands at the poolside. "Where were you just then?"

"Huh," Dick glances across the pool at Johnny floating along on his blow-up dinosaur, waving his hand in the water. He hadn't realised his son was no longer in his arms, let alone several feet away from him. "You got those armbands on tight, bug?"

He nods enthusiastically.

Dick looks up at Dawn and he sees in her face that she's waiting for a response to something he didn't hear. "Sorry." He concedes.

"I said come in. Food's ready." Dawn heads back inside. "Both of you," she throws over her shoulder.

At the table, while Johnny and Dawn eat, he doesn't realize he's pushing his food around the plate until she clears her throat. He smiles, a half-hearted attempt to reassure her, but he isn't sure what he's reassuring her about, only that he woke up with the feeling something was missing, and it is pressing on him.

The sun is out and yet the day feels gloomy, as though a pregnant cloud has been following him all day, ready to pour down on him, and he almost wishes it would already. It's as if he's had a nightmare, he can't remember the details of, but is still reeling from its vividness. And the lingering thought, he's woken up with less than he went to bed with, fills him with a sense of dread that is sinking into him, and sinking him at the same time.

Jason's unwelcome news, and Dawn thinking he should be heading to Gotham, rather than soaking in the pool with Johnny, only adds weight in the pit of his stomach. He told himself he'd never go back to Gotham, but he can't unknow what he knows about Bruce. There's an innate awareness he can't shift the tide coming towards him, that he'll be submerged, and inevitably drown in its waves if he goes.

Dawn picks up her plate and drops it in the sink. The clang snaps his attention back in the room, and he smiles at Johnny, pinching his cheek. "You finished, bug?"

Johnny nods.

"Leave your plate and go find a t-shirt to put on, OK? Sun's going down soon, and I don't want you to catch a chill." Dick watches him jump off his chair and race out of the room. "Hey, slow down," he calls after him, before turning to find Dawn. She's still leaning against the sink. He sighs. He's tired. "What is it?"

"What is it?" Dawn echoes. Her shoulders fall, and she turns to him. "I think it's time you dealt with your daddy issues, Dick – ever since you left that place, it's haunted you. He's haunted you. I think going to Gotham could not only help Bruce, but you, too. Why are you so against it?"

Dick breathes in deeply and tilts his head back. Gotham. He grinds his teeth thinking about stepping foot back there, in that gritty, humorless place he called home. He's happy, and no one happy should go to Gotham. He knows how easy it is to lose, to give yourself over to it, and it seems it's finally taken hold of Bruce and he doesn't want to know what that looks like.

Gotham will make him look at himself, hard, and in harsh light. Growing up there, people always said Gotham was a mirror reflecting the true nature of its citizens, and its darkness, like the moon, was drawing truth from them. Daylight was the trick, a warm lie, casting shadows as bad guys so the ones who walked in the light could pretend they were the good ones. The day was a liar; offering a false sense of righteousness, of happiness, of chances to begin anew as many times as you wanted.

It was Bruce who showed him that the truth was in the dark. Gotham was a hopeless truth he didn't want anymore.

Dick scoffs at himself, maybe he still believes that, he doesn't know, but he doesn't want to find out.

"OK." Dawn sighs and leaves him sitting in their kitchen alone.

He rubs his hand across his mouth, cupping his chin. He has too much going on to flee to Gotham; the case, Dawn's perpetual exasperation, and the thing missing from him. He feels himself reaching for it, and it reaches back, but he can't quite –

He stands, scraping his keys off the kitchen counter. "I'll be back before Johnny's bed time." He calls out before slipping out the front door.

He texts Dawn back about needing to think and stuffs his phone in his pocket as he heads into the dive bar. He sighs, sliding onto the stool and nods at the bartender. "Same," he says, twisting his wedding ring around his finger, trying to remember all the moments that led to him putting it on. It felt right at the time, and the pain he caused and once thought irreversible turned out to be the thing that gave him a shot at redemption, a chance to heal them both. He used to feel grateful but now he's a little hollowed out too.

He feels his thigh vibrate but doesn't bother checking his phone. He nods a thanks as the bartender slides a bud light in front of him. He sips, once, twice, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat.

"Double whiskey please, Bear,"

Dick smiles despite himself when Kory slips onto the stool beside him, because that missing thing he's been reaching for isn't missing anymore. "You know that's not his name, right?"

Kory winks at the heavily bearded, man bun wearing, tall as a tower barman, and he blushes, shaking his head because, every time. "He doesn't seem to mind,"

Dick sighs and scratches the corner of his mouth. "Thanks for coming."

Kory seems to contemplate Dick's words, taking her time to answer, which only makes him stir in anticipation. "I think Bruce is going to do whatever it is he's going to do whether you go or not, and if he crosses that line, it's not on you."

Dick swallows and scrubs his hand over his face, groaning. "I don't know, Kory," he sighs. "He did raise me,"

Kory laughs, taking a sip of the burning liquid. "Raise is a stretch, no?" she bumps her shoulder into his. "He's not your responsibility. You're not his Robin anymore, you haven't been for a long time." Their eyes lock, and he can't look away. "But I know you and you're going to go anyway, so I'm coming with you."

"Kory, no," Dick begins.

"I'm your partner, Dick." Kory argues. "I've got your back no matter what."

Dick swallows, and breaks away, because her eyes are doing something to him. "Listen, this is my mess – I don't want you dragged into it again,"

"Dragged?" Kory smiles and her tongue swipes across her teeth. "I don't get dragged anywhere. I'm going to Gotham with you." She presses her hand against his shoulder. "Seriously, I don't think you should go alone."

Dick looks at her hand on his shoulder. His skin warms beneath her touch and he wonders if her feelings for him linger the way his does. If it lurks in the background waiting for a chance to escape. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

Kory scoffs at him. "Look who's talking, Grayson,"

This feels good, and right, and nothing else seems to, and he's trying to reconcile with that. "Yeah, well," he isn't afraid Gotham will get Kory, or Bruce will, he's afraid his willpower won't hold because he's constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss her. Because he misses being able to put his mouth wherever he wants, wherever ,she wants, whenever he wants. He misses the sound she makes when she comes, her laughter, their rendezvous' on her ship to escape the kids.

When they're apart, he's an expert with a shovel, burying her deep, but right now…

"What?" Kory giggles, she's taking him in, and he knows it. "You're staring."

He feels bare in front of her and his cheeks feel warm when he looks away. "You're a pain in my ass, Anders, that's what." Her smile unearths in him, the deepest, most hidden parts of himself and she doesn't even know it, and after she's gone his thoughts of her linger, unwavering, imposingly, inevitably.

"You're not coming," Dick says, taking another swig of his beer, this time closing his eyes, so he can truly feel the cold travel down, hoping it douses the fire in his belly.

"Oh, I'm coming," Kory insists, mirroring his movements, she takes a sip of her fire in a glass.

"Let's change the subject," Dick says, turning his body to her with a cocky smile. "You miss me at work?"

"No." She snorts and turns in her stool, too, so she's facing him. "With you on break there's no one telling me what to do. In fact, I'm the popular kid at school - everyone wants to partner with me," she scrapes her thumb against her nail varnish, watching the shiny dust flake away.

It's Dick's turn to scoff. "You already have a partner." he warns playfully, as playfully as he can manage when he's burning underneath. "I heard from Rachel and Gar this morning."

"Oh, yeah," Kory sings. "They called me last night," she crosses her legs. "I told Gar if he doesn't go to class, I'm going down there to put my foot up his ass."

Dick laughs at that, really laughs, from his belly and when he settles down, he realizes it's been a while since he's felt this kind of wholesome joy. He grimaces at the thought, that he could be happier in a lowly bar because he's with Kory when he left his wife and son at home. He wonders what kind of man that makes him, and the answer has him reaching for and downing his beer to completion.

But the truth remains and finds him at the bottom of his bottle: The kind of man who is not in love with his wife.

"Hey, how's Donna?" Kory asks. "Does she know about Bruce?"

Dick groans. "No, she doesn't know," he looks up at Kory, and signals with his hand at the barman for another beer. "and I prefer you didn't say just yet either,"

Kory makes the motion of zipping her mouth closed. "She's going to kick your ass if she finds out from someone - anyone else," she shrugs. "Just saying,"

"I forget. You're BFFs now." He teases and nods a thanks at 'Bear' for his beer.

"Hey, when a girl takes you clothes shopping," Kory winks. "You know she's a keeper."

"Right," he nods. "I'll have to try to remember that-," he stiffens as the door swings open and a big burly, bearded man (because beards are trending) walks in, hair golden brown like his skin – Roman. Mr. Hawaiian God according to most of the women, and some of the men at the precinct.

"Dick," His voice booms, rippling through the room when he spots them at the bar and makes his way over. He grabs Dick's hand from his lap to shake.

Dick takes his hand back and smiles half-heartedly. "Roman. How're you doing?"

"Great," He leans into Kory and kisses her. His big hand under her jaw, possessively as he tilts her head up. His thick tongue laps at her and his fingers grip tighter.

Dick is counting backwards, and his hand is tightening around the beer, and his breathing is restricting in his chest. His insides are falling to pieces and they're on fire at the same time. He knows the cop is trying to mark his territory, he also knows he'll fail because Kory has never and will never be that woman, but it still burns.

A clank and a shatter, and Roman and Kory are pulling away. He doesn't notice the blood until Kory's rushing forward to cup his hand now covered with shards of biting glass.

"Dick," Kory cries. "Bear get me some towels," she calls across the bar.

Dick's eyes fall away, he's embarrassed now on top of being pissed that he's pissed when he has no right to be. "It tipped over and I tried to catch it," he laughs it off and pulls his hand from hers. "It's fine,"

"You okay, man?" Roman slaps his shoulder a little too hard, and Dick knows what it means. A man that big, with a woman like Kory isn't stupid enough to play the blind booty call, slash potential boyfriend who doesn't see or feel the weight of their shared history. Dick nods, and Roman smiles. "I'm gonna go take a piss."

Kory snatches his hand back and starts picking the tiny shards from his skin.

"Fine," Dick winces as she plucks the last piece from his hand.

"Fine, what?" Kory is focused on wrapping the proffered towel around his palm.

"You can come to Gotham with me," he smiles when she looks at him. "I know you're not going to listen to me one way or the other – so fine, we go to Gotham together."

"You're right, you didn't have a choice," her smile is wide. "When do we leave?"

Dick flings his keys on the kitchen counter and opens the draw beside the fridge, searching it for plasters in the dark. He wraps it loosely and flings the bar towel on the counter. Then he rounds its bend to run the tap for a glass of water. He gulps it down greedily and pours another to take with him to bed.

Dick stops at Johnny's room and tiptoes inside, careful not to wake him. He settles at the edge of the bed and reaches out slowly, brushing the boy's hair from his forehead. He loves this little boy. At first, he was afraid to, knowing he was Hank's child, and living with the fact that he was dead because of him. Died on his watch when he should've been getting out like he promised Dawn. He doesn't deserve this boy, but he loves him anyway, he loves him fiercely. "G'night, bug," he whispers, reaching forward to kiss his tiny hand.

Dick drags himself into the master bedroom, toeing off his boots and shakes out of his jacket. He drapes it over the lavender velvet lounge chair and then removes his shirt and trousers, discarding of them in the same manner. He can hear Dawn's light snore as he climbs in beside her, turning onto his back.

He sighs because he knows he isn't going to sleep tonight. He turns to Dawn and stares at her back wondering if he should tell her Kory is going with him to Gotham, or if she already knows because he's that predictable. And now he feels like a gigantic asshole because he doesn't deserve Dawn, or Johnny - Kory.

Dick scrubs his face with both hands. This exhaustion feels like years of sleep deprivation rolled into one night, like his mind is trying to be two places at once. It splinters and cracks.

Maybe Dawn is right, he thinks. Maybe all this time Gotham and Bruce have been ghosts haunting him. And maybe returning to them one last time will change that once and for all.


	3. Chapter 3 - Donna

A/N: I referred to the believers as numbers, so it could flow easier, because fight scenes are hard to write. Who knew? Please excuse any mistakes, if I had to edit one more time I might have started hair pulling.

CH3: Donna and Kory face off with some Trigon believers, and Rachel has a breakthrough.

* * *

Kory slows behind Donna as they emerge from the woods. Her breath is caught in her throat, but Donna seems perfectly fine, like she hasn't been running at all. She watches the brunette lean into the truck, picking up her black duffel to sit on the seat so she can rummage through it.

Kory crosses her arms and begins tapping her foot because patience is not one of her virtues and being still makes her anxious. It becomes harder to ignore the dull ache in her chest, and how hard and loud her heart is beating because she's not in that house, because she left when she should've stayed.

She has known about Tamaran for all of five minutes, but she feels its weight. Her family and friends, whatever life she had was taken from her, wiped away, and now she's getting her memory back only to remember what she's lost. Rachel, and Gar. Dick. They're the closest thing she has to a family, she can't lose them too.

"Hurry up," she chides.

"I'm sure I packed it," Donna mumbles. "Haven't had to use it in a while, but -,"

Kory huffs, glancing over her shoulder at the long strip of road. She stills. "Donna," she sings, unfolding her arms as she takes in a silhouetted gang of people running towards them. She rolls her eyes; more of Trigon's followers, probably juiced-up like the family back at the motel. "We have incoming,"

Donna lifts her head up and looks through the window at them, then back down at the bag. "It's right-," she stands up, tucking them up her sleeves. "Got it."

Kory raises a skeptical eyebrow at Donna. "Whatever it is, it better be worth it," she starts towards them.

Donna unleashes the lasso as the space between them and the worshipers begins to close. She turns to the side, widening her stance and lashes the lasso around the frame of the truck's window, yanking it overhead and flinging the vehicle like a toy car at them. It tumbles and scrapes across the gravel as it goes barrelling into them like a bowling ball into its pins.

Kory looks at her, and Donna looks back, shrugging. "Super strength," She straightens up.

"Yeah, I got that." Kory smirks.

An exasperated groan echoes in the night, and they turn to the crumpled, smoking truck. Shadows move. Survivors.

"Your aim needs a little work though," Kory teases.

Donna rolls her eyes at that, "how about, thank you, Donna, because of you now we only have to fight a handful of assholes instead of a shit ton of assholes," she mutters, tightening her grip on the lasso as she starts toward them.

Kory laughs despite herself and follows on her heel, fists clenched and ready to take her anger out on some followers.

* * *

Rachel's sat on the couch. Her knee is bouncing, and her fingernail is between her teeth, it's the third she's chewed off in the space of minutes. She watches Trigon, notices how peaceful he looks as opposed to Dick whose expression is pained and weary. He's sweating, and greying, and she is trying not to cry because she has to do something.

She glances at her mother leaning over a weakened Gar, trying to force feed him a bottle of water. He gurgles and spits, trying not to swallow and she grips his chin so tight her nails disappear in his flesh. Rachel stands. "Mom,"

Angela stands, too, and turns with a smile that looks practiced. "He almost died, he needs to stay hydrated."

"Thank you," Rachel holds her hand out. "I feel useless just waiting around for dad to bring Dick back. Let me." She rounds the couch and joins them by the piano, in the corner where Gar hasn't moved from. She tries to even her breathing, parting her lips to let out all the air she's been holding in her chest. Her heart is pounding, she's afraid, more afraid than she was of that weird fucked up family, of Adamson or that man in the abandoned house, than even her father who has Dick trapped in his own head. Rachel can see it now. Her mother's darkness eclipses her entire face and the smile she thinks is reassuring only makes it clearer. Scarier.

Angela stares a while, looking in, trying to see inside and Rachel tries not to squirm. She keeps her face relaxed and holds the sigh of relief when Angela finally drops the bottle in her hand and walks away.

Her mother is a true believer. It terrifies Rachel to think about what she's made of and where she comes from even more now than it did before she met her. She questions what hope there is for her to be good if both her parents are so far on the other side of the scale.

She kneels beside Gar and holds the bottle to his lips. "Drink," she can see his pulse thumping from his throat and his chest racing up and down. "Please, I'm going to fix this," she whispers.

Gar leans forward. "What if-," he glances over her shoulder at Angela who is now dreamily, stroking Trigon's hair. "What if it's poison? I knew something was up with this house – turns out it's your mom."

Rachel twitches, the word 'mom' now feels scornful. She smells the rim of the bottle and then rolls her eyes, because she wouldn't know the difference if it was. She looks back at her mother preoccupied with worship and spills the water into the withered plant pot beside him. She caps it. "Here," Gar takes the bottle. "Not all at once,"

"We have to help, Dick." Gar cries. "Find Kory."

"I just got you back," Rachel sniffles. "I need you to be okay, please. I can do this."

"I feel fine," he argues.

"Gar." She rests her hand on his, trying to think of a way she can convince him to stay out of it without frightening him with the truth. The truth that Trigon could probably, most definitely undo healing Gar the same way she had taken back healing Adamson, watching him writhe on the floor as he bled out. "I know what I'm doing. I'm going to help Dick, and then we're going to get Kory back, and it's all going to be fine. Trust me."

Gar's eyes are big and questioning. "How are you going to do that?"

"When Kory was – not herself. I reached out to Dick's friends. I didn't mean to do it, it was just, I thought of them and then I was there, sort of,"

"What do you mean?" Gar asks. "You astral projected or something?"

"I'm not sure, maybe," Rachel turns her hand over, examining her palm. "I don't understand it yet, before I could only feel what others felt when I touched them, but then I reached out to Dawn and Hank – and now my dad's inside Dick's head, so maybe I can -,"

"Everything OK, over here?" Angela stands over Rachel's shoulder. "Oh, good. You got him to drink some. I'm only trying to help, you know,"

"He knows," Rachel stands. "He's been through a lot in the last couple days."

"Oh, I know," Angela frowns, and Rachel sees the feigned concern. She wanted a mother so much, someone to hold and comfort her, offer a warm, protective voice like Melissa's that she didn't see it. She didn't see this woman possessed no warmth at all. "Come," she holds her hand out. "Sit with me,"

Rachel takes Angela's hand, glancing back at Gar. "I feel tired."

Angela settles back into the couch and opens her arms to Rachel. "You need to rest," she coaxes. "You've had quite a day."

Rachel smiles and leans into Angela, settling her head on the woman's chest. Her skin is cold to the touch and her heart beats evenly, because nothing about this is one bit terrifying, bizarre or unusual to her. She knows she won't let her close enough to Dick while her father is digging around in there, but she stumbled into Dawn and Hank's mind on pure instinct, so she has to believe with intention she could do much more.

Rachel takes a deep breath and focuses on Dick, the first time she met him and touched him. He was across the table from her in an interview room and she touched his hand, but it wasn't the first time she'd felt him. He'd come to her in her dreams. They were connected even before she knew him and she was going to use that to get to him.

She closes her eyes and exhales slowly.

* * *

Light glimmers in the dark as Donna sends her lasso snaking around two's leg, yanking her off her feet before sweeping five's legs from underneath him with her own. She rolls onto her shoulder and leaps off her knee in time to block an attack from three and wraps the whip around his wrist, spinning him to the ground.

Kory catches one by the throat and throws her like a rag doll. Four grabs her from behind and she reaches over, cupping his chin and pulling him over her shoulder, slamming her foot into his throat.

Donna's lasso curls around six's chest and flings him right into Kory's fist, sending him soaring back to land at her feet.

Kory slams her open palm into a chest, kicks another in the balls and spins his head as he falls to the ground. "A handful?" she shouts.

"What are they on," Donna shouts back. "Gamma radiation?" she spins off seven's shoulder, blocking nine's strike and cups his neck, driving her knee into his chin.

Donna punches left and Kory kicks right, and between them lasso pulls, strangles, dash and hurtles believers into the air.

When they step back, catching a breath, they are left with one conscious body, and he is approaching fast. "Last one," Kory says. "Want it?"

Donna smirks, stretching her illuminating whip between both hands, and catches him like a fly in a spider's web. She spins him up into the air, turning on the heel of her foot once, twice, before letting him go like a shot-put.

His screams fade into nothing as he goes hurtling over the treetops.

* * *

When Rachel opens her eyes, she's in a spacious, well-lit house, unlike the one she went to sleep in which was dingy, old and damp. She uncurls herself and sits up, squinting at the luminous blue escaping into the room. The glint from the rippling pool water reflecting off the glass paneled doors.

She heads toward it when she hears raised voices echoing in the opposite direction, coming from down the hall. There's an urgent twist knotting her stomach, and she senses danger, like a sinister smile in the dark and she knows who it belongs to.

Rachel follows the voices, taking cautious steps, but pauses momentarily, taken in by the framed pictures on the mantle below the TV set. She frowns as she examines Dick and Dawn with a dark-haired child between them. A family portrait. But?

Their voices interrupt her disoriented thoughts and there's a little more vigor in her as she moves into the kitchen to find Dick. And there he is with Dawn. They're standing on opposite sides of the island and she's chopping vegetables. Dick's scrubbing his forehead and he has a wedding ring on. But. But.

"Dick," Rachel calls, but they carry on, oblivious to her presence.

"What do you want from me, Dawn, huh?" He's exasperated. "You wanted me to go to Gotham and save Bruce. You win. I'm going." He leans against the counter.

"Not with her." Dawn growls. "I know she's your partner -," she takes a breath. "Sorry - I know, I shouldn't feel threatened but this isn't fair, Dick."

"What you're asking is unfair," Dick finishes, bitterly. "I don't expect you to understand what we went through together, trying to keep Rachel safe-,"

"I'm not going over this again." Dawn cries. "I won't go around in circles about this."

"Dick, wake up," Rachel screams at him. "You have to wake up, please." She pauses as he does, and then he turns to her and she smiles. "Dick," she says with relief. But he's looking through her.

"Did you hear that?" Dick asks.

"Don't try to change the subject," Dawn warns.

"I'm not," he crumbles, letting his shoulder sag. "Look. I'm sorry."

Rachel holds her stomach as a tugging sensation grips her. It's foreign, and violent, and she's winded. "Dick," she cries. "Please. This isn't real." And then she's being ripped backward through the air and out of the kitchen, flying through the hall. She crashes through the paneled doors and air rushes from her lungs as she hits the water. A scream is trapped in her chest as she sinks to the bottom.

* * *

Rachel lurches forward and grabs at her throat, gasping for air. Her heart is pounding out of her chest and her skin is twitching against her bones. And Angela is standing over her with narrow eyes and a tight jaw. "You have been a very, _very_ bad girl."


	4. Chapter 4 - Angela

CH 4: Angela shows her true colors and Gar finds a way to buy Rachel time.

* * *

"Impressive," Angela says, folding her arms. "Weak, but impressive. You have learned more than I expected." She leans over Rachel. "But you have much to learn before you can even hope to overpower me, child." A smile spreads across her pale hardened face. "It will all be over soon and once I'm done with Dick, you'll see what I'm doing is for you."

Rachel stands, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. "Dad?" she looks at Trigon's body across the room. He's still, but then she looks at her mother, Angela, and he's in there too. "How?"

Angela's eyes clear and she snaps back, shaking her head. "You're welcome, lover." She sits Rachel down with strong hands. "I don't appreciate being used,"

Rachel swallows. "I wasn't, it was an accident," she lies. "I was really worried about Dick and I was tired, and I fell asleep. I must have -" she looks Angela in her eyes. "I've never done anything like that before."

Angela considers this and then nods. It's enough, and Rachel takes that to mean Trigon is no longer speaking through her. But there's one problem; she can't reach Dick with her father in there. He could feel her as much as she could feel him, looming over Dick. "That's why you need your father, Rachel, don't you see, he'll help you master your gifts. He'll make you stronger."

"I know," Rachel sighs. "And I want that, I'm just – afraid."

"Don't be," Angela assures, taking Rachel's hand into her own as she kneels in front of her. "You have nothing to be afraid of. It's the world who should be afraid of you." She announces like one of those supervillains from a cartoon Rachel used to watch on a Saturday with a bowl of cereal. The way her voice drops, and her face falls in darkness, her pupils pinpricks drowning in ice blue wilderness. "For now though, I'll have to keep an eye on you," the lines in her forehead deepen, now her tone is nothing like a cartoon. "You understand, don't you?"

Rachel nods. She is seriously regretting letting her mother out of the asylum.

"Good." Angela grins and Rachel wonders if her face is hurting yet. "That's my girl," she sits on the double sofa and points to the one sofa Rachel is now in. "You're going to sit there, until your father returns."

Rachel watches as Angela settles beside a heap of products and begins sorting through them. Probably sensing she's being watched, she peeps through her eyelashes at Rachel and laughs nervously. "It's been a while since I've seen myself. I've been in that place so long, waiting for you to come to me. Not as long as I made you believe, but," she picks up the red bottle of nail varnish. "I was committed to the task of reuniting our family."

"I'm sorry," Rachel says.

"Not your fault," Angela puts the varnish down and starts to file her nails. She giggles. "You have to make an effort, you know, a guy likes to see a girl look pretty." She then picks up a compact mirror and begins tweezing her eyebrows. "I can do yours too, if you want," pluck, "you're such a pretty girl," pluck, "you shouldn't hide,"

Rachel scowls. "I'm OK."

Angela grinds her teeth, but her smile remains in place. Her face has to be hurting by now.

"You should try the pink one," Rachel points to the varnishes collecting at her thigh. "It's softer, prettier,"

Her smile widens. This one is real. "Thank you, baby," she sets the tweezer and mirror down and grabs the pink bottle, shaking it before she turns the cap.

"How did he do that?" Rachel asks. "Before – he was talking to me through you, but Dick was still -,"

"Your father is all knowing," Angela says with a sparkle in her eyes. "He fused all his senses together, and he is in all places at all times, feeling everything at once. We humans," she leans her elbows into her knees and strokes the dripping with pink brush over her thumb. "we are limited by our bodies, our thoughts, we live in a sandbox and we're too afraid to step outside of it. Your father is bound by nothing. He is boundless. Limitless." She sighs, her romanticism's blushing her cheeks.

Her words weigh heavily on Rachel's chest, like she's set a ton of bricks on it. She is gripped with desperation, but she forces her mind to settle, quieting all the other emotions warring for attention and tunes into fear. And Kory. She isn't afraid of her, but she is afraid she ruined their friendship when she poked around in her head, afraid they may be on opposite sides now. But Rachel decides she has to take the risk because the confused woman is all she has right now, so she exhales and lets Kory fill her up. She thinks about her touch, her protection and how warm her skin always is, and how deep her eyes are. How she felt when Kory kicked those losers' asses in the diner bleeds into her, drowning fear until it fades.

She feels safe despite her memory telling her Kory is a threat. She feels warm and her hand finds her neck, but she pursues the memory anyway, focusing on her hands over Kory's, and she is filled with a powerful surge of desperation that matches her own. Kory's. She's close.

Rachel remembers her father looking at the front door. "the one outside," he'd said.

Her relief is small because Angela is only a few inches from her, but it's there, because Kory is back, and she wants to save her, and Gar – and she's raging at Dick because he's an idiot, but she needs him to be OK, too. Rachel wants to let the joy of knowing Kory is feet away unclench her heart, but she knows she has to wait. And she will.

She smiles as Angela flicks her eyes up briefly.

"Um. Angela." Gar starts, and Rachel turns over her shoulder and watches him stand to his feet.

Rachel stands, too. "Gar," she says, her eyes pleading.

"Yes, Gar." Angela goes to set the varnish down on the table and realises - remembers Donna broke it to pieces using Kory's body. She huffs out a laugh and places the bottle down by her feet. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh," he rolls his eyes around the room and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I need the bathroom."

Angela stands up and gives Gar a pointed look. "You're not going to make a run for it, are you, Gar?"

Gar swallows, "heh," he smiles. "Um, no," he shakes his head.

Angela huffs and pushes her shoulders back, seems she isn't cut out for this teenagers' gig, and it's starting to show. She rolls her neck from side to side and waves him over with her wrist. "Let's go. Come on."

Gar skips over to her. "Actually, no shade, but um," he looks sheepishly at Angela and she rolls her eyes. "I think that soup I had gave me a bad stomach,"

Rachel covers her mouth, muffling a snort. Even in dire straits, Gar is involuntarily and inevitably, himself. He is her light, guiding her out of the darkness, a moment at a time. It has been no time at all, and yet she already knows him and has no idea what she would do without him.

"Go, before I change my mind," Angela cautions.

"Ok, thanks," he smiles, sharing eye contact with Rachel as he passes her and heads up the stairs.

"You're going with him?" Rachel says, as Angela follows behind.

"I know you'd never go anywhere without them." Angela explains. "But Gar is probably silly enough or desperate enough to fall out of the bathroom window calling for help." She winks. "Be right back."

Rachel slumps back down as Angela disappears up the stairs and waits to hear them above her. She smiles. "Thanks, Gar."

...

* * *

Gar huddles into the bathroom and Angela leans against the doorjamb, staring at him. "Um," he pushes the door and she rams her foot in the crack, pushing it back open. He knows he has to find a way to make her stay and keep her attention on him, but he also needs to keep his cover long enough for Rachel to try whatever it is she's trying. Now he's kind of wishing that soup really did mess him up. He's not against method if it'll get the job done.

"It stays open," she smirks.

"Well, OK," Gar swallows, giving her his back as he unzips his jeans. "But I warn you. My diet as a human is pretty terrible. As a tiger, it's absolutely disgusting." He glances at the cabinet mirror and sees she's turned and is leaning her back against the door frame.

"Oh, yeah?" Angela challenges.

"Yeah," he echoes. "Deer. Wild boars. Water buffalos." He sticks his tongue out in disgust, and his eyes water and his stomach churns at the thought. "But you know, a tiger's gotta eat." He knows Rachel wants him out of it, but he cares about Dick too and her. And he's really hoping Kory is on her way with a divine intervention up her sleeve. He's been trying to turn, but he feels physically sick, every time he wills it, and now he's afraid it's the reason he can't transform. The taste of blood still lingers beneath his tongue, and the smell is stuck to his skin despite taking several hot showers. He still feels sticky and that's just the physical stuff.

He's scared. Freakin' terrified actually but he can't sit still when he's afraid, stillness gives his fear a chance to build and gnaw and grow until its paralysed him. No. He has to move. He has to act. Does he ever think it through first, well no, because adrenalin plus teenager makes him kind of impulsive and excitable, sometimes. Mostly. OK, all the time, according to Cliff.

"Water buffalos?"

Gar turns to the door, relieved she's still facing out towards the landing. "This one time, I got captured and thrown in a zoo." He closes his eyes and pulls his pants down to his ankles. "Lincoln Park." And sits.

"A green tiger in Lincoln." She says disbelieving and laughs. "And no one took pictures."

"Actually, I was only there a night," Gar explains. "A lady tiger cosying up to me was just the right amount of inspiration I needed to escape. So anyway, don't say I didn't warn you." He swallows when she doesn't fill the silence. She's looking at her painted hand. "Digesting water buffalo is especially challenging. I don't think I even chewed the last one properly."

"Crack a window when you're done." Angela pulls the door closed. "And keep that mouth running, kitty cat,"

Gar smiles. That he can do. He just hopes it's enough. "OK, so there was this other time-,"

...

* * *

"Kory," Rachel whispers, but she hears nothing back, she feels nothing. She places both hands on her lap and rubs her legs. "Try again, Rachel," she breathes in as deeply as she can and exhales, homing in on Kory, slow, and cautious as she dips her toe into the deep of Kory's mind, like testing the water before jumping in. This feels fine, steady, and she goes in until she is submerging into Kory's subconsciousness.

Her memories. Her thoughts and feelings, her duty, all of it comes crashing at her and into each other. Kory's mind is a wreck. It's fragmented, jiggered and conflicted, and Rachel wants to leave because, did she do this? There is pain so deep and raw, she recoils. Exposed nerves still undiscovered waiting to unleash on her friend, and it all floats untethered.

There is also heat, unrelenting, and consuming, but there's something fuelling it, giving it power. Something sure among all Kory's confusion, something solid, and there's so much of it that it fills Rachel, too.

Hope.

Boundless hope and light escapes from those fragmented pieces. Those tiny, lost jigsaws reach out to each other like magnets wanting to be whole again and make Kory whole.

And Rachel's heart swells, she thinks she may love Kory even more now, because she can't comprehend how a woman whose mind has been broken, can find it in her lost soul to care for and protect, she and Gar, who were once strangers to her. She smiles because never has she seen or felt a heart so big, so fierce and so gentle, and because Gar is going to lose his shit when he discovers she has a ship.

"Kory," Rachel whispers into Kory's mind, and this time, she feels her confusion fusing with relief. "Can you hear me? It's me. Rachel."

* * *

Next: Kory and Dick are in Gotham! ^^


	5. Chapter 5 - Home

A/N/:Leeel, thank you so much for your amazing reviews! 3

Ch5: Dick and Kory are in Gotham, and Dick starts his search in the last place he saw, Bruce. Home.

* * *

Gotham is cold, biting, and he thinks Kory's hands must be cold because she keeps rubbing them together. The woman on fire is rubbing her hands because _she's_ cold. Dick reaches for them without thinking and cups them in his own. He brings their hands together and blows, and she watches him, and he feels, _everything. _

He should let go now, but her hands in his feels honest when everything else around him feels like a lie he's been telling himself.

Kory smiles but her face is pensive when she pulls away. "We're not in Kansas anymore." She glances around at the bustle of people coming and going in all directions, so many directions, it's dizzying.

"What?" Dick's half-smiling.

"Oh," Kory scoffs. "Gar. He has me watch all these old movies with him when they're on break. And this time I picked." She shrugs. "Some of them are pretty good actually. We like to assign the characters to each other,"

"Oh yeah?" Dick laughs. "And who am I?"

"Dorothy," Kory says without missing a beat. "Obviously,"

"Obviously," Dick says with sarcasm, and she smiles, and his face cracks wide open in response. Her smile owns him. "And who are you?"

She tilts her head and takes a minute. "Gar says I'm the wizard of Oz 'cause I have a ship." She laughs. "I agree."

Dick stands on the curb, holding his arm out for a cab. "Isn't that cheating?"

"Is it though?" Kory flashes another grin.

He's still smiling, and he should stop before it gets weird, but he can't. And then there's a splash and Kory's giggling uncontrollably at him because he's soaked in rain water, thanks to a car passing too close to the curb. "Welcome to Gotham." He spits, flapping the water from his shirt and the shirt from his chilled skin.

He glances around. Gotham is all tall, dark buildings, littered alley ways and yellow cabs. Black, grey and blue hues seem to filter over everything. The streets are gritty, and the sky is always heavy, and everyone in between is alive with the city's dark energy. All he sees, all he's ever been able to see is their wild eyes, wide mouths and long, twiddling fingers plotting to harm. He sees the potential, the darkness in everyone, and he hates that part of himself, the part of him that is Bruce. Gotham hasn't changed one bit, and neither has he, it seems.

"Here, let me," Kory steps out, waving down a cab, and it pulls him back to the moment. Joy lingers on her face, and her eyes sparkle. Multiples yellow cars pull in, tires screeching to a stop in front of her. She picks the one closest. "Where to first?" she asks as she climbs in.

Dick climbs in beside her and settles in. He takes in a breath as though it can brace him for the pain the four-letter word has always, and will always bring him when he says, "home," and leans forward to add, "Wayne Manor, please."

* * *

5 Years Ago

_Dick was soaking wet from the rain when Kory let him into her place. Her bedroom was dark with only a little glow streaking in from the street lights. She pulled his clothes off and they slapped against the floor. His hair was dripping, but she pulled him back onto the bed, and on top of her, shivering. He thought it was the chill from his skin, "sorry," he whispered, but she pulled him closer, and she was hot all over._

_He kissed her and she hummed in response, threading her long fingers through his wet hair. He ran his hand ran up her side, pushing her t-shirt (which used to be his) up and over her body, and smiled when he found nothing on underneath._

_Her body was feverishly hot against him, and it felt so good, she felt so good. He couldn't wait and tease and prolong this time, not when her tongue was sucking his earlobe into her mouth. He inched down her body, grazing his lips and teeth along her skin, and lifted her leg over his shoulder._

_She fisted his hair when he laid his tongue flat on her, it was enough to make her moan as he gradually applied more pressure, lapping at her like a cat at its milk bowl. She was warm, and salty, and soft, and he loved kissing her there, exploring every inch of her delicate skin. He buried his fingers in her thighs, holding her in place as she cried, and writhed, and bucked her hips._

_And when she couldn't take it anymore, growing restless and needy, he changed pace, circling and flicking until his chin was wet and she was arching up against him. Then she reached down for him and pulled him in for a desperate and breathy kiss. He moved to her neck and she moaned into his ear as he grazed his teeth against her neck, still spasming beneath him, making him go from half-hard to hard-hard at the sound of her still coming._

_His breath was hoarse against her shoulder, and then she was pushing him onto his back to straddle him. He draped his hands over her hips as she settled down on his lap, and eased him inside of her, slow and steady, her mouth falling open as she reached the end of him._

_"Dick," she said breathless, pressing her hands against his chest._

_He clutched her hips tighter as she moved, her pace agonizing, but she never looked more perfect; heavy-lidded with her mouth open and her head titled. She found her rhythm and leaned back, gripping his thighs as she rocked her hips back and forth. His vision went white, his breath ragged and hot in his chest as need swelled inside of him. The friction, watching her body move on his, and hearing her cries was unraveling. He pulled her down onto him, holding her tight as he came with a guttural groan._

_Kory pressed her mouth behind his ear and his toes curled, and his jaw clenched tight as he shook through the last of it. She pulled back, her smile wide and her eyes sleepy before capturing his breath with her mouth._

_He ran his hands through her hair, gripping the back of her head and kissed her back, slow and tender._

_Time ceased to exist when their bodies were entwined, in sync and in perfect rhythm. _

_Dick gathered Kory close and pressed his face in her neck, sated and slipping away when her voice cut through the fog. "Dick – I wanted to ask, I thought maybe," her voice was quiet and unsure. She was never quiet or unsure, and now he was wide awake. "I was thinking, you stay here most nights, eat and drink out of plastic and sit on that hideous lounge chair or the floor. I wanted to go furniture shopping now I'm settled here - and I wondered if you would be interested in going with me?" she shifts against him. "I know tomorrow is your first day off in months, and you probably just-,"_

_"Sure," he said without missing a beat._

_"OK." Kory leaned back, slipping her fingers between his, and his heart did a thing, like it was the first time she was holding his hand. It wasn't the first time she was holding his hand, but it was the first time she was holding it after asking him to help make her place a home, and if he wasn't overthinking it, officiating them living together. Maybe, eventually, inevitably._

_He had two dozen shirts and pants in her closet, a development Kory had delighted in taking advantage of, mostly wearing nothing but his shirt in the evenings. He didn't mind that at all, nor did he mind his toothbrush sitting beside hers in a purple cup on the sink because hygiene. So, until now, it had been practical, maybe a little romantic, too, but for the most part, logical._

_Until he realized the moment he stopped thinking in terms of practicality or logic, the moment he stopped thinking all together. The radio was on one morning, it was Top 40, and Kory was clawing her hair out over it. It was hilarious to him, her not so much, and that evening he stopped at his place after work and brought his records and the player over because she didn't have one. That night they listened to his old records, some of them his parents and they'd been there ever since._

_Kory's breathing hushed, and now his stomach was doing a thing, because this felt like the crossroads of their "We're still sleeping together, but now we hold hands sometimes, eat dinner and curl up on a beat-up lounger watching drag race reruns because Kory refuses to watch anything else' thingship._

_He didn't know what to call them, or maybe he did and was anxious about saying it aloud, through fear it would lose all meaning. All he knew was, he loved this part: when she was asleep in his arms where he could contemplate her wholly, and safely. _

_Lingering on thoughts about what she's come to mean to him. How she seems to somehow regulate her temperature when they're in bed together, so he doesn't dehydrate or melt. Or how when he's exhausted after a long day at work, she's the one he thinks about because all he wants to do is take her to bed and wrap himself in her. How the heat of her mouth around him while her nails scrape down his stomach as he jerks and groans leaves him flustered, distracted and horny at work. Or how her laugh fills his chest with joy; a sensation that still feels new, and foreign, and sometimes painful because deep down, he doesn't know if he deserves all of this, her._

_Or the worst, how the thought of anyone hurting her uncoils in him a deep rage that sends a fever coursing through his entire body. But still, with all those feelings growing deeper and wider inside of his chest, still, he can't seem to find the thing, the word to encompass it all. Define it._

_He contemplated and decided maybe there wasn't a word that could fit what Kory was to him inside of it, and then he closed his heavy eyes on the word: everything._

_The afternoon sun slanted in against her smooth, supple skin and he watched her stretch and turn towards him, winding her arms around his back. She sank into his chest and pressed her lips there. She was warm and soft, and her bare breasts were against him, and now he wanted to cancel the rest of the day, so he could bury himself deep inside of her warmth and never resurface. He settled for a closed mouth kiss, because today, he and Kory would shop. He groaned inwardly at the thought and watched her climb out of bed, simultaneously climbing into his t-shirt._

_She returned with a mouth full of white foam as she brushed her teeth. He huffed out a laugh when she tried to talk around it and dribble tracked down the shirt, making her curse. "Stop laughing." She mumbled. _

_Dick shot both hands up. "I wouldn't," he surrendered. "C'mere," he sat up and after a moment of stubbornly refusing, she walked over, wiping the end of her shirt over her mouth. She sat on his lap and slid onto the bed, leaving her legs over his. "Hey,"_

_Kory raised her eyebrow. "What?"_

_Dick frowned. "Wait, did you swallow the toothpaste?"_

_"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" Kory asked._

_He laughed, shaking his head. "No, Kory, some things aren't meant to be swallowed."_

_Kory's brows knitted together. "Oh, so don't swallow," she said. "Then what about your-,"_

_"Not the same thing," he injected, and then kissed her, feeling her smile against his lips. She was always busting his balls. He should be used to it by now, prepared even, but she always gets him. "Mm. Funny."_

_"I thought so," Kory licked her lips and her eyes stilled on him. "You were saying?"_

_Dick raised his eyebrows. "Mm. I wasn't saying anything,"_

_"But it's on your mind," Kory ran her hand across his chest. "I can hear it in your voice, it's like the silent letter in a word, you know it's there even though you don't say it. You've done it since I met you. Hold back. What is it?"_

_He smiled at that, but there was a sigh in his throat, when he breathed. He didn't want that look on her face, of sadness, to ever be because of him. "I'm sorry," he said, and scratched his jaw. "It's Dawn," and he saw her face relax. He wondered what she thought he was going to say but decided to save that line of questioning for another time. "It's going to be a couple of days before Donna can get down here," he felt heavy now, the weight pressing into him, and he cleared his throat. "Dawn's still getting back on her feet, it's all – still fresh."_

_Kory scooted closer and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and Dick moved his arm around her, hoisting her onto his lap. She cupped his face and pulled him close. "For both of you. You may not have been best friends, but that doesn't matter." She said. "You lost him, too."_

_"It's not just that," he pursed his lips. "I owe him. I owe them both."_

_"Hey," Kory tilted her head and captured his eyes, drawing them back up. "It doesn't have to be a debt you owe. Dawn's your friend. You want to help." She smiled. "I get it."_

_He sighed. "OK."_

_"You've never asked for my approval before," her smile grew. "I mean, is that what this is?"_

_"I didn't," the laugh he attempted fell short. He frowned. "I wasn't. I'm just," he gripped her hip. "I mean, I'm just-,"_

_Her eyes were shining. "Sharing?" she whispered, capturing his bottom lip between hers. "Well," kiss. "in the spirit of sharing," kiss. "I want you to know how much I appreciate it."_

_"Kory,"_

_Kory flipped her leg over his and sat on his lap, bracketing him between her thighs, and her hands nestled through his hair, gripping the back of his head. "Dick,"_

_"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes were half-closed because her fingers at the nape of his neck was a direct and heated message to his groin._

_"You can shut up now," She licked his lips, slow, traveling up from the tiny dip beneath his bottom lip to his top._

_"OK." He gripped her face, pulling her to him and locked her in a kiss, drawing sighs from her as his hands rushed up her back. _

* * *

The car pulls up outside the mansion, and Dick leans forward, frowning when he takes in the grand property. It's disheveled, and neglected, fallen leaves from autumn scatter the vast land though they are deep in the throes of winter with icy rain, icier gales and a promise of snow.

"Wait here," Dick says to the driver, and pushes the door open, before turning to Kory. "You too,"

"Dick," Kory leans forward.

Dick leans back and his eyes fall to a dark stain on the seat between them. "It's not exactly how I pictured you meeting the man who took me in as a kid." His voice is soft. He's asking, not telling. When he finally looks up, the realization is clear on her face, and he wants to add, yes, despite thinking Bruce was a dick he hoped to someday to introduce them, before all of this. "Let me do this,"

"OK." She says without further protest.

He climbs out of the car and heads for the side of the building, foregoing the main entrance for the kitchen door like he used to as a kid. At the edge he finds the gate in the short alley Bruce added to make heated escapes or crafty sneak-ins more challenging, because every situation was an opportunity to be trained. He runs at the wall and leaps off it onto the gate and flips over its head onto his feet.

He follows the short alley under the archway leading into Alfred's garden which once blossomed with plants and flowers. He pauses over the patch that is now just dirt and weeds, and sighs. He still can't believe the old man is gone sometimes, and when he remembers he feels a little chill and wonders how Bruce is doing.

At his feet is the lantern he always hid a spare key in.

Dick lets himself in. It's dim. He runs his fingers along the counter top now layered with dust and remembers all the meals he helped the old man cook, and how easily he was reminded of his actual age then. A teenage boy hanging out with an old man, making dinner and listening to his stories about a boy who was once like him, angry, lost and confused, but had found a way to make a life.

He moves into the wide hall and enters the foyer. He should be looking for Bruce, but he knows he isn't there, because he can't feel him. He's always been able to feel the brooding, older man. He had to learn to quickly once he started training with him.

Dick climbs the stairs and heads straight for his bedroom. He's almost hoping it looks nothing like the room he left behind, but he's also hoping it's exactly the way he left it. He pushes the door open, and he's thirteen again, scared and angry, and grief-stricken. He's mad at his parents, the people who hurt them and Clay for putting him in a stranger's home, but mostly, he's angry at Bruce for wanting to help him. No one could help him.

Everything is covered up and Dick thinks he may be relieved, but he can't be sure. His bed and all the furniture are draped with large white sheets. His walk-in wardrobe still has the expensive clothes, shoes and trainers perfectly aligned and organized. Things he didn't take when he left for good because he didn't need anything from him, or at least that's what he said. He takes off his jacket and flings it over onto the bed, pulling his shirt off and starts pushing the shirts along the rack, before settling on a black. Then he changes his pants.

Shrugging his jacket back on, he chuckles, entering the room, because there wasn't much to cover up. He wasn't exactly a normal teenage boy with figurines, models or posters to hang on the wall. He didn't watch much TV, or play any sports. When he thought about it, he rarely got to spend time in it because when he was benched for losing his cool or breaking the rules, he'd gravitate toward Alfred, or the old man gravitated towards him. Sometimes he couldn't tell who needed the other.

He slumps down on the bed and stares at the wall. This wasn't a home. Not really. He shifts uncomfortably and a lump as hard a rock rises his in his throat. Clenching his fists doesn't make it go away either, and he hates that he's still affected.

Dick feels something protruding into the back of his thigh and stands, flipping the sheet back, raising an eyebrow at the envelope sitting on the bed. His nose flares, it has his name on it in Alfred's handwriting, and he doesn't know if he wants to know, but his hand moves over the flap anyway, tearing it open.

He swallows, tipping the envelope and a key falls into his palm. 'Here's to one too many birthdays and Christmases apart.' The note is in Bruce's handwriting, but he never sent it, and it burns, because he'll never know what it would've felt like to get it from him.

Dick stares out of the window and sees the cobbled stairwell. He remembers jumping out of the window to escape down there and flee the Manor, he never knew whether he was running home or running away from home, and not much had changed.

* * *

Dick enters the garage and clicks the key, and at the end of an extensive line of exclusive cars sits his gift. It looks like the batmobile, shiny black with fan-like rims and wing-shaped tailfins, except it isn't the batmobile. He opens the door and leans inside, and his eyes grow. The seats are red and black, but every seam is a deep green.

The gear handle and peddles are gold, and the window is the shape of his old eye mask. His very own batmobile. Robmobile. He swoons as his hand glides across the smooth dash and a screen above the gears switch on. Road maps, criminal activity hot spots and emergency buildings in Gotham load along with a list of customized attacks and features. Fire. Gas. Turbo blast are a few, but when Dick searches the hood, he finds not only does is it highly evolved in technology, but has a five-cylinder engine.

He takes a shaky breath. His heart wants to swell _and_ shrink, and he is somewhere in between, trying to remember how to breathe.

Maybe Bruce isn't lost to him after all.

* * *

Dick edges out of the car garage in a silver Porsche, almost identical to his old one. He loves his car, but he really wants it for a birthday or Christmas, and he's hoping he can reach Bruce and get it the way it was meant to be given.

The garage door slides shut behind him and he lifts the hand break, climbing out to get Kory. "Hey Kor, looks like we won't be needing-," he finds an empty seat when he pulls the passenger door open. "Hey," he turns to the driver. "Where's the woman I was with?"

He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "You told me to wait. She told me to wait, so I wait. I don't ask questions."

Dick pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flicks a fifty-dollar bill between his fingers. "Here. Thank you." He grabs he and Kory's bags and closes the door, watching as the car descends the drive way. Dick turns to the mansion. "Kory," he calls, dropping the bags on the ground to call her on his phone.

"I'm here," she says, emerging from the stairwell.

He frowns. "You okay?"

"I thought I saw something – someone," Kory's hands are in the pockets of her long, grey, cashmere trench coat. Tiny buttons align the front from the collar to her hips and a bow tie belt hugs her waist, and Dick remembers exactly what she looks like underneath all those layers. "Thank God," she says walking over to the Porsche.

Dick throws their bags in the back and climbs in next to her. "You move quickly," she touches the police radio he installed that buzzes with white noise. "Where next – we should probably let the precinct know we're here following an independent lead on something personal. A missing person's or something,"

"I think we should stay under the radar as much as possible," Dick says, "but if we have run into anyone, that sounds good." His phone rings, and he frowns at the number. "Grayson," his face relaxes. "Duane. We landed a couple of hours ago. We're about to head down to our hotel." His face drops. "What?"

Kory sits forward. "What?"

"I'll see you there." Dick hangs up and breathes in deep, before turning to Kory. "There's a body downtown. The Joker's."

* * *

Dick pulls up at the rear of the ambulance, parked outside the yellow tape and climbs out with Kory in tow. A dozen siren lights wash the immediate area in red and blue, and people pile on top of each other to get a good look at the commotion.

They flash their badges at the uniform guarding the area and enter the crime scene as the Joker is being collared and shifted onto a flat board.

Dick sees his old friend, Duane, and nudges him. "Hey," he smiles when his friend turns, and they shake hands. "Good to see you," he beams.

"Wow," Duane says. "Big time's back in Gotham," he teases and Dick laughs. For a moment he's overcome with nostalgia. He'd forgotten he still had people he missed in Gotham, that missed him, people like Duane who could make him laugh in almost any situation.

Dick turns to Kory. "This is my partner, Kory Anders," he says. "Kory, this is officer Pierce. Duane. We went to the academy together."

Kory shakes his hand. "Good to meet you."

Duane widens his eyes at Dick and nods at Kory in a conspicuous way, as she moves closer to the crime scene, and away from them.

Dick does his best to ignore him. He glances at their immediate surroundings. "Anyone see what happened here?"

"I got here thirty seconds before you did, but if anyone saw anything, no one's talking." Duane slaps Dick in his chest. "You know how it is, baby. It's Gotham."

Dick sighs, because yes, he does know, and it's a side of Gotham he isn't nostalgic about. "Who's running point on this?"

"New captain." Duane spits. "Name's Frank Finney. Ass-wipe." He licks his lips. "He's building a task force here to especially target and wipe out Gotham's vigilantes and criminals alike." He shakes his head. "Got case files up to his asshole on everyone and everything that passed through here."

Kory approaches, and tilts her head a slight, for Dick's eyes only.

"Excuse me," Dick follows her to the car and she points to the indented roof and shattered glass.

"What do you see?" She asks.

"Point of impact," Dick glances up at the buildings surrounding the scene and looks back at the car. "He was thrown off the tallest one of the three buildings," he points over her shoulder at the middle one behind her. "That one - how'd he survive?"

She sighs and opens her hand, and Dick's ribs clench tight at the sight of a torn piece of black material. Batman's cape. "I found it in the car door, the Joker put up a fight. He did not want to fly with the fishes."

"Swim," Dick says, taking it into his hand. "Swim with the fishes," he swallows the bile rising in his throat. "What are you doing, Bruce?" he whispers to himself.

* * *

Next: Dick and Kory share a moment in his hotel room.


	6. Chapter 6 - Batman

**A/N:** A heads up: there's a platonic flashback w/Dick & Dawn.

Leeeel, thank you again, for another wonderful review! I'm so happy you're still enjoying this story, and appreciate the tiny liberties I am taking with the characters to dig a little deeper into their internal lives and relationships. You are too kind. Here's another long one. Enjoy :)

**Summary:** Dick and Kory meet Captain Finney (Trigon) and Dick comes face to face with Batman.

* * *

Dick turns to his friend. "Hey, Duane," he nods to the ambulance taking off with the Joker inside. "He gonna live?"

Duane laughs mirthlessly. "I hope not." He scrubs his hand across his face. "I'm tired."

"I hear you." Dick grabs his shoulder and squeezes briefly as he passes and dips under the tape. "Heading to the hospital. If he lives, whoever did this might try again."

Duane waves him off. "Watch out for Frank 'can-go-fuck-himself-or-a-racoon-for-all-I-care' Finney."

Dick scoffs. "I will," and climbs into his car. He really missed Gotham, or maybe just Duane. He and Duane in Gotham.

* * *

"It was a birthday present," Dick takes a pause, "or a Christmas present, I'm not sure," he says as they walk the long, gloomy hall towards the intensive care unit.

"Both," Kory smiles sincerely. "You just had your birthday, and now it's about to be Christmas, so," she hooks his elbow and they stop. "Dick," she swallows. "Do you remember what you said at the bar after I agreed to go with you?" he frowns, he knows what he said, but he waits for her to reveal the reason she's reminding him.

"You said if Bruce crossed the line and killed – you'd tell the police who he was, leave it in their hands and go home."

"Kory," Dick sighs, parting his lips to continue, when he notices the tiny dip in her neck caving.

"You promised me, Dick." Kory says. "We go home."

He relents and nods in agreement. "I meant what I said."

Kory's hand falls away. "OK." she walks again, and he lingers behind. Rarely does Dick have the chance to read her body, rarely does he have to because she's as candid as they come, but she's holding back this time. He can hear all the missing notes in her song, and it hangs in the air the rest of the way.

They turn onto the unit and there's enough police to subdue a riot. Nurses and doctors rush around and in between them as they chat among themselves, their bodies filling the entire hall with black. Dick pushes through with Kory at his shoulder and most of them do not notice, and the ones who do, don't show much interest in who they are or why they're there. They're so scattered he can't tell which room it is they're supposed to be guarding.

Dick shares a glance with Kory and then he flashes a badge at one of them, when he gets tired of shouldering his way through. "Joker. Where is he?"

The average height, reddened, quivering cop who stands out like a sore thumb, simply points to the last door at the end of the hall.

"Who the fuck wants to know?" echoes the hall and all the officers stand to attention, parting like the red sea for their Captain.

Dick turns and takes in the man approaching he and Kory. "Detective Grayson. CPD. This is Detective Anders. My partner."

He has a smug look on his face, Dick observes, as he looks them up down, sucking at his teeth as though he has something caught in them. "Long way from home. Why are you outside my victim's room and why were you at my crime scene, detective Grayson?"

Dick smirks. He doesn't like this guy. "I'm visiting a friend I went to the academy with. He's helping us with a mission persons case." He drops his gaze for effect, when he adds, "personal matter." Dick finds the Captain's eyes lingering on Kory when he glances back, and clears his throat. "He was running late to our meet-up because he got called to your crime scene. I said I'd meet him there." His squares his shoulders. "When I saw who it was, I decide to follow up here," he explains. "get a prognosis."

"You a fan?" Finney asks Dick the question, but his eyes haven't left Kory.

"I ran into him and his crew a few times when I was in uniform." Dick pushes his hands into his pockets and clenches his fists tight. The way the captain's eyes dance on Kory unsettles him, it feels threatening, like a predator sizing up its prey.

Finny points his chin at Kory. "How long the two of you been partners?"

"3 years," Kory says, completely uninspired by his presence, and one hundred percent comfortable showing him.

"You two, ever," he wriggles his eyebrows. "You know?"

Dick stands a toe in front of Kory and attempts a smile that isn't full of contempt. "We're sorry we intruded on your case. We're leaving now."

Finney steps into Dick's path. "I hope I didn't offend either of you just now. In some places that sort of connection between partners is frowned upon," his smile grows, and his tongue glides across his lower lip before he huffs out a, "but this is Gotham, and we don't give a fuck who you fuck." His eyes flick up and down Kory's face and body.

"Again. We'll get out of your hair," Dick steps away and Finney blocks him again. Dick's fists are still in his pockets, but his heart rate has ticked up and his jaw is dancing now. It's the touch of Kory's hand on his arm that anchors him, and he breathes slowly, as the heat beneath his skin cools a little.

"Five minutes," Finney says. "I'm feeling generous. You have history with the guy. Five minutes in the room."

"We're good." Kory's hand is still on Dick's arm, and Finney's eyes are still on her. "Thank you."

"Honestly," Finney shrugs. "I'm doing you the favor because I might need one from you." He smiles at Dick's silence. "Anything you can tell me about the crew this nut job ran with would be a tremendous help – any of them who might have been brave enough to knock him off the top spot for a bigger cut. Anything you can tell me."

"Sorry," Dick delights. "He never ran with the same crew twice, unless that's changed since I've been away," he trails off.

Finney nods, slow and thoughtful as he considers Dick. "OK." He sighs. "Well, I'm a man of my word. Five minutes."

Dick looks at Kory and she nods. "Thank you." He says, and they head into the room. "Duane was being polite," he closes the door behind he and Kory, and turns to her. "Guy's a fucking asshole."

"Yeah," she laughs.

"I don't like the way he was looking at you," Dick says with deprecation, as he takes in the room's bland cream walls, the unplugged TV set mounted on the wall at foot of the bed, and the watercolor painting above the bed of an orchid.

"I can handle myself," Kory asserts as she rounds the bed to stare out the large window.

"I know. It's not that," he defends, and she turns, narrowing her eyes at him. "It's not just that -,"

"Something's not right about him," Kory deduces and concurs.

"Yeah," Dick purses his lips.

Kory moves to the foot of the bed and leans against it."OK, take a picture for your gallery or whatever and let's get out of here,"

Dick survey's the Joker's broken body and the branch of tubes disappearing into his body. Human after all, he thinks. "If Bruce wanted him dead. He'd be dead."

Kory crosses her arms over her chest. "So, is he saved?" she asks. "He's gotta know you're back, right? He's Gotham's knight. Maybe that's enough."

"You saying he threw a tantrum to get me back in Gotham?" He huffs out a laugh when she shrugs. He's more grateful than she knows, than he's had a chance to say, that Kory came to Gotham with him. He's sure without her there, he might have lost his mind already, as Gotham never really inspired anything in him other than hopelessness and violence. Even now as he looks out across the skyline and darkness surrounding it, he's reminded of all the times he and Bruce, found trouble in its gutter. He'd been thirsting for an outlet for his rage, and he didn't care where he found it, and in Gotham, there was always opportunity to unleash. His phone vibrates against his thigh and he picks it up. "Hello." He closes his eyes. "I was going to tell you. Yes, after I left Gotham. She – Kory insisted. I'm not. Donna." He sighs. "Donna." Then he holds the phone to Kory.

"I'm not saving your ass," Kory takes the phone. "I told you to tell her. You deserve this." She opens the door and steps out. "Don," she says, turning back to Dick with a frown. She gestures to the empty halls. No cops. No Finney. "Yeah. I'm here. I told him to tell you."

Dick stalks to the door and sees a single nurse at the station. "Excuse me, where's this patient's protection unit?"

"Cigarette break," she taps away at her keyboard, keeping her eyes trained in front of her.

"All of them?" Dick presses.

"All of them." She glares. "Who cares?" and steps out from behind the cubicle. "Do you know how many cops that _thing_ in there has killed? Innocent people." she comes close. "I hope he chokes," she spits at his feet and storms away.

All the lights go out and Dick spins on his heel. "Bruce," he chokes out as the Bat jumps off the windowsill into the room.

"Dick," Kory calls, unsheathing her gun as she walks back hurriedly.

Batman flings a batarang into the door handle and it slams shut. Outside, Dick can hear Kory calling and wrestling with the broken handle. "You flinched," Bruce says, his tone questioning. "And you didn't hear me come in."

"What are you doing here, Bruce?" Dick rounds the bed, inch by inch.

"I thought you were never setting foot in this hopeless city again," Bruce's voice is gruff, and worn, but Dick can hear the humor in the statement.

"I meant it at the time," Dick swallows the lump rising in his throat, hard as a rock. The last time he saw this man, his guardian and mentor, a few choice words had been exchanged and he was angry. In fact, he was wrathful, but since he'd been back in that mansion, and felt Alfred, though he was long gone, he thought maybe a reconciliation _was_ possible. At least Bruce was still here and that meant more to him than anything. "Don't do this."

"You're protecting this scum," his voice is still burly, but even, strained, but lighter somehow. He sounds different, he _is_ different, Dick can feel it. The weight that once sat on his chest, the burden that once colored his voice, is gone and Dick wonders what else the man has lost while he's been away.

"Not him," Dick says.

"You've been gone too long," Bruce says. "You're slower. Softer." He loosens a batarang from his belt. "Too much time in the sun, Robin." He flashes a grin and flicks his arm out, but Dick lurches forward, blocking his throw and the blade lands in the wall above the Joker's head.

Bruce slams Dick into door. "Stay out of my way, little bird,"

Dick slams his arms down on Bruce's, breaking his hold and brings his clenched fists up under his chin. "I can't let you do this." His heart stutters as Bruce flexes his back and brings his fists up, too. He never thought he would have to fight the man who showed him how, and he doesn't want to, but he's a detective too. He can't stand by and watch murder. "Bruce," his shoulders sag. "Please."

Bruce is still light on his feet, and he throws a jab, and then another, and Dick blocks them easily, but he keeps coming, teasing. He spins and his cape flies as he flings his arm back into Dick's chest, and he stumbles back into the door.

Dick throws a punch and it connects with Bruce's jaw, and he smiles, like it's a sparring match. He catches Dick's next fist and pulls him in, flinging him across the Joker's bed. It screeches on its wheels against the wall, and Dick scrambles back to his feet.

They move around each other, and Dick realizes Bruce isn't trying to hurt him. "Looks like I'm not the only one going soft." He huffs out.

The sound of the door splintering steals Dick's attention for a split second, and when he turns back, Bruce's fist is crashing into his face. He feels his knuckle scrape against his brow bone and colorful spots follow. Momentarily blinded, he stumbles back against the wall and slides to the floor. Bruce, now a shadow moving across his blurred vision leaps onto the windowsill. "Bruce. Stop." Dick cries.

Bruce looks across his shoulder and flings a batarang in the Joker's direction. "Who's going to stop me?"

Gunfire sounds outside, and the door bursts open, but Bruce is long gone. Kory is the first in with an army of cops behind her, their guns drawn. She kneels beside him and presses her hand to the gash on his head as it gushes. "You okay?"

He looks at the dagger embedded in the Joker's neck. Blood pulses out, soaking into the sheets and his eyes, once wild are horror stricken. Dick tilts his head up and breathes out a long breath. The man he spent most of his adolescent years and adult years with was now a murderer, and now matter how he felt about him, it was too late. He failed to talk Bruce off the ledge. He'd crossed a line, Dick never thought he would be able to, but it is clear to him now, that there is no alter-ego.

The Bat is no longer a suit, or a mask. It's consumed its host.

Bruce had fought long, and hard, but in the end, Gotham had won, and Batman was all that remained.

* * *

Dick settles at the end of the lumpy bed in his motel room. The TV provides noise in the quiet and light in an otherwise poorly lit room, but drones on unnoticed. 'Important artifacts stolen from Flash Museum runs across the bottom of the screen. His good eye tracks the patterns in the grey carpet as he tries to forget the smell of mildew coming off the damp walls. When Kory had checked them in, and management had seen the state of him with his left eye slowly turning black, they asked for extra to cover any unforeseen damages during their stay. In return, though begrudgingly, they received a first aid box.

Dick slips out of his blood-stained shirt and drops it on the floor. He isn't really a wife-beater kind of guy, but he wishes he had one on now, as the cold pimples his skin and wraps itself around his bones.

He scrubs a hand over his face, wincing, because he forgot he has a split above his left eyebrow. He's trying not to think about what happened at the hospital, and what Bruce said to him, but it plays like a loop in his head.

Kory flicks off the bathroom light and walks over to him, nudging his legs apart with her knee. Her eyes settle on his, and both her hands come up to cup his face. He can feel the tremble of her skin as she touches him gently, rubbing her thumb against his cheek, and feel the temperature in the room, and under his skin spike. "I'm okay," he assures.

"Shut up," she tilts his head up and sighs. Her fingers ghost his cheekbone briefly, and he sees the fear fading, being replaced with something else. "I still can't believe he hit you." she says bitterly, pouring anti-septic onto a cloth before gently pressing it against his head. "Sorry," she cries as he flinches.

"I can't believe he actually did it," Dick closes his eyes as she begins to clean the gash above his brow bone. "He killed someone."

She dabs at the gash. "This isn't on you,"

Dick opens his eyes. "Isn't it? Maybe if I hadn't left." He exasperates.

"And maybe if you'd stayed." Kory says, and stills her hands to look at him. "How his story is written – how it ends, isn't up to you."

"Kory," Dick whispers.

"Shh," she gently cleans the wound, and then covers it, and her fingers linger on his face when she's done.

Dick reaches for her hand and he hears her breath quake in her chest, as it expands a little faster. She tucks her lips in when their eyes meet and he wants nothing more than to kiss her senseless. To slip his hand between her thighs and capture her breast in his mouth, stroking his tongue against her nipple, to suck and bite, and bruise until she's crying his name. But he knows in his heart, to cross the line would compromise Kory in a way neither of them would be able to forgive him for. He hates that it's the only thing that's stopping him, that his love for Dawn and the life they have isn't enough. Will never be enough to keep him, his thoughts or his body from craving Kory every minute of every day. He drops his hand, and behind his eyes burn. "Thank you."

She breathes out a relieved, "You're welcome," and works on cleaning up, breaking free of the charged bubble they'd slipped into.

Dick shouldn't say it, but he can't not say it, despite knowing the answer could deepen his ache. He has to know. "So, you and Roman," he clears his throat and drops his gaze, temporarily finding focus on the patterned carpet.

"I thought we were talking about Bruce," Kory chuckles, but he knows her body, and tones of voice. Both betray her.

"Donna says he asked you to move in with him," his breath hitches. He helped her make that apartment a home, and then he unofficially lived there with her; kicking his shoes off at the door after work, moaning when she ate from his plate, spreading his case file work out on her living room floor as they went over it together, and holding her against his chest when night fell. "Why'd you say no?"

Kory frowns, and takes a moment to consider him, and he tries not to squirm. She shakes her head and shrugs. "Because I like my place. It's home." She sits beside him, the bloodied cloth and first aid box in her hands and stares through the TV. "it's my safe space," she turns to him. "A lot of love went into it. I can't imagine living anywhere else."

Dick swallows.

Kory stands up. "Get some rest," she says with a shaky smile, and disappears into the bathroom, closing it behind her.

And he waits for her, and she takes forever it feels like. And just when he pushes himself off the bed and sways, she's back and holding him against her. "Sorry,"

"Easy," she whispers, lowering him back onto the bed. "You've given enough to the cause. Tomorrow we head to the precinct, give our witness statements," she stands. "and then we go home."

Dick gives a small smile. "I thought you came to Gotham with _me._"

"I did." Kory walks over to the door. "And now you're coming home with me." She drops her head. "Go to sleep. We have a long flight home."

"Goodnight," Dick says.

Her brows knit together. "I'm coming back," she says. "You could have a concussion. What kind of partner or friend would I be if I let you spend the night alone?"

Dick grazes his hand across the patched up bruise, careful not to irritate it. "He didn't hit me that hard,"

"Shut up and lie down," Kory curls her hand around the door handle. "I noticed you were cold. I'm going down for more linen and to find out what the hell is going on with the heating in this place." She sighs. "I'm coming back."

The door closes behind her and with her goes the warmth pooling in his chest. He huffs out a laugh and lies back on the bed with a sigh, at the irony of Kory going to get the heaters turned on when she's his source of warmth. In their time together, sharing a bed, a space, a life – he'd become acclimated to her core temperature, and so well versed he could sense tiny differences in her by the way his own body spiked.

He's been cold ever since they broke up. Dick reaches up above his head for the lilac pillow, and crushes it beneath his head.

Dick isn't good with scabs, never has been, even when it's healing, and it's nearly over, the itch gets to be too great. Kory settles him in a way he never entertained was possible, all the rage and guilt, and inadequacies were soothed away by her light. A light she seems to be in endless supply of, but he can't make sense of what changed. He wonders if who he is, is what pushed her away, if leaned in too heavily, too soon, and broke them.

He saw Bruce continue to choose vigilantism over his greatest love, Selina, turning to duty and solitude each time, and he'd paid for it. Dick closes his eyes. He's too exhausted to avoid thinking about Bruce _and_ fight all of his conflicted feelings about Kory. He decides to let it all in, while he's alone, where no one can see it killing him.

* * *

5 Years Ago

_Dick smiles as Dawn opens the door and holds up two coffee cups and fresh pastries in a white paper bag. "I brought breakfast," he steps in as she pulls the door open for him to pass. He notices she's in the same clothes as she was when he last stopped by, two days ago. A fluffy, plum sweater and grey sweat pants. Her hair looks tangled, like she was in the middle of loosening a braid and gave up half-way._

_He's relieved he and Donna were able to convince Dawn to move closer to them after Hank, with the help of his photographer friend, Michael, renting the room out for cheap, as a generous favor to him. But he worries, it isn't enough. Dick follows her to her bedroom, setting the warm Danishes down on her dresser and sits at the end of her bed. The smell of vanilla and almonds fills the room. "Donna says she'll be here around six," he watches as she climbs back into bed, and helps her gather the duvet close. "Apparently she's cooking."_

_Dawn smiles and tucks her arm under her pillow. "Uh-oh."_

_"I know." He laughs. "I'm working late, but I can come by after,"_

_"Dick, stop," Dawn sighs. "Stop with the over-time, and making this all your fault, it makes me uncomfortable, and grouchy."_

_Dick shifts, his skin feels a little tighter and warmer. "Dawn,"_

_"Just be here because you're my friend," Dawn swallows. "You didn't know he was going to be there because he pretended not to give a shit about you. It wasn't true." Her eyes travel to his, and he clenches his jaw. He will keep it together. "You had his back and he had yours, and sometimes that's just not enough. The end." She sits up. "Thank you for coming, and checking up on me, but I'm fine," her chin quivers and she clenches her fists, but the tears come anyway. "I'm fine" it comes out in a broken whisper._

_Dick leans in and rubs her shoulder. "Hey," he can barely stand this, seeing how broken she is, and living with the fact that he didn't keep his promise to her. That in the end, it was Hank who kept him in once piece by catching the bullet to his chest as he shielded him. They were supposed to be out after helping him save Rachel. Dawn wasn't naïve, or inexperienced, despite giving up Dove to start a family with the man she loved. All she wanted was him alive. And Dick failed._

_He returned to her empty handed and with more broken promises between them._

_"He was always trying to prove himself, you know," Dawn breaks the silence and his thread of thought. She roughly wipes her sleeve over her face. "He was in so much pain." A shaky breath. "All the time, and it made him angry. It wasn't the kind pain I could take away. But we found a space between all the fucked-up bullshit we went through, the pain, the loss and the hurt, and we lived in that little space for a while." She smiles. "And we were happy. I was happy." The tears are falling freely, and she licks them away as they come. "But in the end, he needed Hawk more than I needed Dove."_

_Dick wants to tell her how much Hank loved her and thought she was the only thing he ever got right, how loving her was the only thing that helped him live and not just survive. She was his peace, but it felt sour on his tongue, an insult in his mind, he had no right to say it. "I'm s-sorry."_

_"Stop saying that," Dawn yells, grabbing a pillow from behind her and launching it at him. But he remains still, his gaze downcast, because he deserves whatever she throws at him. "Stop saying how sorry you are, Dick. You don't get to have this. It's mine. I don't want you to be sorry. I don't anyone to be sorry. I want -," the air leaves her chest and she heaves. "Hank. I want Hank. I want him here."_

_Dick scoots up and pulls her into his arms and she melts into his chest bonelessly. Her shriek sends chills through his body, and it only makes him hold her tighter and closer. He holds her until she has nothing left, until time and silence fills the space, and then he lowers her gently back into bed. _

_He makes a mental note to alert Donna that her overnight plans need to be extended by at least a few of days. "How's Kory?" she asks, and her eyes are clearer, and her face is softer, and he smiles. There she is._

_"Great," he says. "We're furniture shopping, actually," he chuckles. "She's driving me a little crazy with her discrimination towards certain fabrics and textures. I mean, it's just a sofa, you know,"_

_Dawn grins. "You're in love with her," she says with warm affection. "That's good. I like her. I like her a lot, especially for you." She nods at her own statement. "I don't know if you're in her league, but you're good together."_

_His nose flares and his eyes find to the floor. His chest fills with a warm light when he's with Kory, feelings he's never felt, a breadth of emotion he didn't know he had comes alive at the sight of her or the sound of her voice. He is absolutely nowhere near her league, of that he carries no doubt. But he isn't going to talk about that with his grieving friend, he hasn't even said it aloud to Kory. He's still working up the nerve. _

_"I'm pregnant," she laughs. "Four months."_

_Dick eyes dart up at her, and it takes a full minute before he can move. When he does, it's to her bedside on his knee. "Dawn," he says, his voice heavy with regret._

_"He was supposed to be here for this," she growls, clutching her duvet in her fists. "And now I'm alone, and – scared, and - how dare he, h-how could he, how," her mouth opens, but the sound won't come out because it's trapped in her chest, and the tears are back, clouding her eyes. She gasps, and the sound that comes out is broken, and raw._

_"Hey," Dick reaches up, cupping her neck and pulls her down onto his shoulder. "You're not alone. OK? You're never going to be alone, I promise." _

* * *

Dick watches as Kory signs her testimony regarding the Joker's death and hands it to Duane over the front desk. His old friend flirts and she indulges him a little, but all Dick's been able to think about is how she rejected Roman's proposal to move in, so she could stay in the apartment they built together. And how he's conflicted about leaving Gotham at the mercy of Batman, even if it is a cesspool of crime, capitalism and dirty money. And how utterly unrelated those two things are with each other, yet occupy his mind anyway.

Kory turns to him and smiles. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah," he swallows. He made her promise, but Bruce made him one, that he isn't going to stop. "Kory, when I was in that room-," his eyes are drawn to the growing commotion around them as throngs of officers jog out of the precinct, a dozen at a time, heavily armed, their radios abuzz with desperation.

"Hey," Dick grabs an officer by the arm. "What's going on?"

"Arkham Asylum," the officer says. "it's under attack."

* * *

We're heading back to the real world in the next chapter. Thanks for reading. 3


	7. Chapter 7 - Kory

**Summary:**

Kory and Rachel make contact, but what the teen asks of her won't be easy, or comfortable. Plus, Kory gets an intimate peep into Dick.

* * *

**Notes:** Leeeel, thank you again for your comments. You know, you're so right, there is so much between Robin and Batman, they have a complex and fascinating relationship that I would love to dig into, but in this I dabbled with Batman in small doses because 1) he was inside Dick's head so it would be a bias representation anyway, and 2) I am easing myself into writing the others characters, as I've mostly been writing Dick and Kory. As for Finney aka Trigon being a creep, yes, it was definitely to press Dick and see if he squirms. Thanks for sticking with the story!

* * *

Kory trudges through the woods, her breath a little ragged in her chest and her throat burning from all the running. There's a sense deep down that she isn't going to be strong enough to protect the people she cares about, a feeling she keeps trying to swallow. The night is still young, and she is on empty after using what she had on the shimmer, to no avail, but this person her memories are telling her she is, she doesn't recognize. Without her powers, she questions how much she'll be able to do against Trigon, and if the right person got the mission. "How long have you and Dick known each other?" she asks, because the silence is tempting all kinds of thoughts to emerge, thoughts she can't afford to entertain until after they have their people back.

"Since we were kids," Donna breathes out. "Biggest pain in my ass,"

Kory huffs out a laugh. "The two of you are close then?"

Donna nods. "We have our separate lives, but when he needs me I'm there, and when I need him, he's there." After a lingering moment of silence, she adds, "He told me about you. And Rachel. Gar, too. Sounds like you've all had a real shitty week."

"Yeah," Kory chuckles, because it feels like months. "Something like that,"

"And now a ship, too." Donna says. "How's that sitting with you?"

"It's not, really," Kory says, and it isn't exactly a lie, because it isn't sitting with her so much as it's sinking her beneath its weight. "I haven't really had a chance to think about it,"

"I'm sorry, by the way," Donna whistles, making a whipping gesture at her neck. "in my defense, you were pissed _and_ powerful."

"Your apology needs work," Kory laughs. "but I get it. I wasn't myself, and you protected Rachel."

"And now I know that," Donna adds. "I thought you were dangerous, turns out your just a badass with a screwy memory. You're the good kind of dangerous. Maybe the kind Dick needs covering his ass."

Kory takes the lead, but Donna is hot on her heels. "Dick doesn't know what he wants or needs."

"You noticed that, too, huh," Donna sighs. "One thing he does know: how he royally screwed up leaving the way he did. I've never seen him like that."

Kory swallows. "Like what?"

"Scared." Donna says. "Scared for Rachel, but also, scared for you."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kory sees the clearing, but the branches ahead double. Her eyes lose focus for a millisecond and then it's clear again.

"I don't know." Donna shrugs. "I trust Dick and he trusts you, so I guess that means I trust you, too. I see how much you care about him and those kids." She follows Kory into the clearing, and pauses on Kory's heel, looking up at the house, fifty feet away. "He runs, usually away from people," she looks at Kory. "Today, I saw him running toward people – towards you."

Kory rubs her temple as a slow, sharp grinding pain comes into focus. Her eyes fill with water and she blinks it away, sniffling. She can't remember a time she's ever been sick, not while on Earth anyway, but she feels like she could be coming down with something, the way her head goes foggy.

"And you're not listening to me, are you?" Donna steps into her line of sight, but she's blurry, and her voice seems to fade into the distance. "Kory."

"I can't hear you," Kory shouts, now clutching her head with both hands. "Donna,"

"Are you okay?" Donna places her hand on Kory's shoulder. "Hey, talk to me,"

The grinding in her temple intensifies, shooting clear across to the other side, and her knees buckle beneath her. Her vision goes black and Donna's voice muffles in her ears, but another sound pushes through, a voice, fleeting, and then nothing.

Kory opens her eyes on her hands and knees, and Donna is at her side, kneeling and talking, only she can't hear a word she's saying. She remembers heading towards the shimmer, and then being overcome with sensory overload and a lost sense of direction. It felt as though two moments were happening at the same time, beside each other. She was exerted, but aware of Gar's compromised safety and Dick's waning strength, and then came the searing headache, splitting her skull in two.

"Kory," Donna's voice is clear as water now.

Kory lifts her head. "Donna,"

Donna hooks her hand under Kory's arm and hauls her up onto her feet, steadying her by the waist. "What happened?" She asks. "We were heading for the house one minute, and then you fell."

"I-," Kory rubs at her temple, feeling the faint hum of what was hammering there moments before. "It felt like something was trying to get inside my head." She stills as it slowly dawns on her, approaching again, from the back of her head this time, only it isn't as painful. "Something's happening to me," it shifts inside of her, something foreign, sentient, and she reaches for it instinctively.

"Are you okay?" Donna grabs her arm. "Hey,"

_"Kory, can you hear me?" _Rachel's voice comes in among the noise in her head._ "Kory. It's me, it's Rachel."_

Kory glances around in the night, and she sees no one, but she heard Rachel's voice. It was clear, crisp and as close to her as Donna stood. "Rachel?"

_"Kory,"_ Rachel's voice comes again, with more urgency. _"I need you."_

"Rachel?" Donna questions. "Where?"

"How are you in my head?" Kory asks, turning to Donna, her eyes wild and her fingers digging into her temples.

"Wait a minute," Donna sings. "Rachel's inside your head right now?"

Kory nods. "IsDickokaywhereisGarareyouhrt?" Kory blurts unintelligibly, and holds her breath, waiting for an answer. "Rachel?"

Rachel sighs, and Kory feels the girl's relief flush her own body. _"We're okay. For now,"_ she says. _"I don't have a lot of time to explain everything, but I need your help."_

Kory grabs Donna's wrist and pulls her. "We're coming," she says. "Donna has something that could break the shield keeping us out, we'll be-,"

_"No,"_ Rachel cries. _"You can't, not yet, please. My dad is doing something to Dick – he's alive, but he can't move or talk. He's trapped in some kind of trance, or dream, I think. We need to get him out of it first."_

Kory stops, and Donna gives her a puzzled look. "Trigon has Dick trapped in a hallucination – Rachel thinks it's safer to get him out of it before we blast our way in there."

"OK," Donna says. "How do we do that from out here?"

"How?" Kory repeats. "What can we do?"

_"You,_" Rachel says.

Kory's eyes settle on Donna. Her heart sinks a little, because maybe she could muster up a blast, but how much and for how long? It wouldn't be enough. "Me?"

_"I tried to get inside Dick's mind,"_ Rachel begins. _"I tried to reach him, but my dad knew I was there, maybe because I'm like him, but he could feel me. I couldn't get to him, but I think I can send you,"_ she sniffles. _"I think I can link your consciousness to his."_

Kory swallows. "Have you ever done something like this before?" she asks, even though she's sure she knows the answer.

_"No."_ Rachel takes a pause. _"I don't even know if it'll work, if it's safe,"_ a sob catches in her throat and Kory is filled with her fear and regret. "_I don't know what else to do."_

"Rae," Kory says gently. "Focus – how would it work?"

_"There's a strong emotional link, tethering you together._ _I can use that to bridge you to him. But I can't go in with you. You'd have to get him back by yourself."_

"Like a conduit," Kory mutters, and quickly fills Donna in on the plan. "Rachel, I think you should send Donna in. She's known him most of her life, they have history together.

_"I can't,"_ Rachel cries. _"I haven't touched her. I might not be able to reach her, and I can't waste this moment trying to find out. Please, Kory, you have to do it. He cares about you, I felt it, and you care too – it could work. It has to."_

Kory glances at Donna, and the brunette nods. "If this is the shot we have, we have to take it."

"OK," Kory sighs. "What happens to my body?"

_"It'll go to sleep."_ Rachel says. _"Kory,"_ there's a long pause, but Rachel is inside her head, and she can feel the guilt blooming within her own chest as though it were her own.

"It's okay, Rachel."

_"I'm sorry. I've never done anything like this before, and your mind, it feels – delicate."_

"I don't care about that right now," Kory says. "Do what you have to do," she sits on the ground and places her hands on her lap, and Donna gives her a confused puppy look. "Sit,"

"O.K." Donna sits. "If this is some kind of ritual, or," Donna trails off. "And now I'm talking to myself, too." She adds when Kory closes her eyes.

"How will I find him; how will I know what to do?" Kory asks.

"_You'll just know. It'll feel too big at first, overwhelming,"_ Rachel warns. "_But if you focus, he'll draw you to him."_ She gulps. _"Kory, this nightmare he's in, he thinks it's real._ _It **feels** real, I think some part of it is. You have to get him to wake up."_

Kory runs her hand over her mouth, and takes a breath. Her heart is thumping so loud she can feel its vibration in her ears, and familiar sensation follows. Her mission to Earth comes to mind and she is wholly aware of the weight this responsibility carries, but she had no choice then, because it was home, and she has no choice now, because this is Dick. "I got it. What happens now?"

Rachel breathes out. _"Let me in."_

Kory opens her eyes. "I thought you were,"

_"I need full control of your mind. I need to access it so I can bridge you to Dick, all of you. If there's any resistance I don't know what could happen to you, or Dick."_ Rachel informs. _"I need you to trust me."_

Kory faces Donna. "Rachel's going to act as a bridge between me and Dick." She breathes out. "As soon as I open my eyes, you blast that shit to pieces." She smiles nervously when Donna nods. "OK. See you on the other side." She leans back into the grass and closes her eyes, bringing her hands to her sides. "Do it."

_"And Kory,"_ Rachel says. _"You'll feel things. About Dick. Things that hurt him, haunt him, memories – they'll come to you and you'll hurt too, but you have to focus on getting Dick. Our Dick."_ She cautions, her voice breaking. _"My dad is using all of his guilt and mistakes to weaken him, to make him give in. He needs us – you."_

"I'll bring him back." Kory feels her heart clenching inside her chest. "I promise."

_"OK. Think of him."_ Rachel instructs. _"I need a strong memory. Think about what you felt the last time you saw him, before all of this, when we were back at the safe house. Think about what he said to you and what you said to him, and how it felt. Or the night after the Asylum."_

Kory opens one eye. This child couldn't be more obvious she's in the know about the two of them. "OK." She clears her throat and thinks of Dick, but those thoughts wander to their training sessions, her storage unit and them finding Rachel with Gar.

_"You're resisting me,"_ Rachel cries. _"Please. I have to see, Kory. I have to feel what you felt. Let me in."_

Kory swallows and her chest tightens at the memory of Dick gathering into the minivan with his bag, and how hard she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking him to stick around a little longer. The ache returns, spreading across her chest, and the fear, because she doesn't know who she'll find when she goes looking, and a part of her had started to settle with the idea that she wouldn't have to figure it out alone.

She shifts in the grass, clutching at it, because she can feel Rachel peering in. And now she feels stupid, and exposed and vulnerable, and it was all too much, too soon, but it was becoming something anyway, and then he –

* * *

It's cold, is the first thought before she opens her eyes, and she's surprised and concerned when she does. Her arms and legs are strapped down, and she can see the last cut healing, but she can't feel its burn. She starts wriggling and looking around frantically for the men in white coats. But it's empty, and dark, and quiet.

She isn't afraid as much as she's horrified and desperate, and angry, and none of that feels like hers. She remembers being afraid more than anything else.

The wail of an elephant startles her, and she snaps her head to the side to find it standing on its back legs. Lights, colors and the buttery smell of popcorn fills her senses at once. A crowd surrounds it and a young woman perches on its trunk, and they cheer while the sweet, enchanting music of the calliope calls to her.

Kory tries her luck and pulls at the straps and they fall away, clanging to the floor. She sits up and blood lagoons at her feet as she jumps down. White coats are torn in half, their bodies savaged by rage, and Kory shudders – she's afraid of her own thoughts, how much she wants this to be true, those people in those coats, torn apart for cutting, and hurting and experimenting on her. That would be justice, wouldn't it?

Kory feels the blood between her toes, but she leaves the darkness and steps into the light bathing the circus performers, and the night disappears behind the tent. "Sorry," a young boy says, as he bumps into her, trying to make it to his seat to sit beside his father. "This is my favorite part." He shouts.

The flying Graysons' are announced and she turns over her shoulder as the light beams on the trio high up in the sky. She smiles and her body fills with adrenaline and excitement, and her heart feels joy, because there aren't two people in the world she loves more than mom and dad.

The young boy flies upside down, catching his mother's hands. He is strong, and happy. Kory blinks away the unbidden tears when she realizes Dick on the trapeze, that its him she feels, and all his emotions. Thoughts. Memories.

"Oh, Dick," she cries, slowly backing out of the tent. "I can't be here," she turns away, and is grief-stricken at the site of her parents grave site. But that's not hers either, the pain, palpable and inescapable. And yet it grips her.

Her chin quivers and the tears blurs her mother's name on the grave stone. Kory turns her back on them, and covers her face. "Dick, where are you?" She calls.

"I'm right here," Dick says.

Kory opens her eyes and finds herself in a room, filled with weapons, surveillance screens and shadows. But in the middle of the room, sitting on the mat with a staff by his side and an older man standing over him, is Dick.

"You lack focus." Bruce's voice is gruff, but youthful. "Do you think anyone out there would hesitate to hurt you?"

"No," Dick growls. Kory takes a step closer, so she can see his face, and knows he can't be any older than fourteen. He's just a kid in a room full of shadows, ghosts and grief. "Dick?" she whispers, but he doesn't respond. His eyes are fixed on the man standing over him.

"Do you give up?" Bruce asks. "I know Alfred likes it when you help him in the kitchen. If you'd rather prepare us lunch,"

Dick presses his hands behind his head and leans into them, leaping up onto his feet. "No." He dusts himself off and bends to retrieve the staff, but Bruce uses the opportunity to sweep his staff across Dick's legs, sending him crashing back to the floor.

Dick slams his fist on the floor. "You cheated."

"Do you think the enemy won't?" Bruce asks. "Do you think he'll wait for you to stand up before he attacks you because it's fair?" he shakes his head. "You have to be five steps ahead of everyone you come into contact with, Dick. The pretty girl with a bomb in her purse. The innocent young boy in a gang, the old man carrying his morning newspaper as he stalks a school boy. Always be prepared. For anything."

Kory stands over Dick and she is overcome with his rage, as he stands again, and attacks the older man.

"You're too angry," Bruce says, moving swiftly out of Dick's reach with each blow he throws. "It blinds you. Controls you. Remember this: not every lesson is learned in a fight."

Dick is skilled with his staff and even more so with his body, and he uses both to get around Bruce, but he still can't land a blow, and the frustration builds inside of him until he can barely see or breathe. "Come on," he screams.

Bruce drops his staff and ties his hands together behind his back. "As long as rage dictates to you, I will remain out of your reach. The _enemy_ will remain out of your reach." Bruce gives Dick his back and begins to walk away. "If you want to hit me," he says. "take control of it. Use it so that it cannot use you."

"I am," Dick roars, sweaty, and tired, as he rushes forward with his staff. He launches it forward and Bruce spins, catching it in his hand and yanking Dick into him. Dick bounces off his chest and stumbles back, but his grip on the staff tightens.

"Do you want to know how to win a fight?" He says. "There are two types of anchors in life, Dick," Bruce jolts his left shoulder back, and then his right, dodging Dick's quick staff. "it's important you learn to distinguish between the two as early as you can." He catches the staff as it comes at him and spins Dick to the floor. "The first acts as a shackle, dragging you along with it until you find yourself adrift with no sense of direction, no way of getting back to a place you know. It holds you and keeps you there. You cannot move, or grow because you are a slave to it."

Dick back-flips, staff in hand and from mid-air, comes down with it aimed at Bruce's head, but he turns sideways and Dick flies past him, his knee hitting the ground. He stands slowly, and turns to the man panting with his eyes narrowed on him and his fists clenched.

"The other anchor grounds you, centers you. No more are you adrift. You are found and your purpose becomes clear." Bruce explains. "Find the anchor that grounds you and let go of the one that pulls you adrift, that is how you win a fight."

"I don't care about stupid anchors," Dick pants. "I want to hit something."

"One will ground you, the other will weigh you down. I urge you to always be aware of that distinction so that you're never pulled adrift for too long. One can lose himself if he's adrift too long."

Dick drops the staff and charges at Bruce, he kicks and punches, and spins, and flips. His body is strong, athletic and agile but it isn't enough. Bruce is faster, stronger, and better. Tears surface and the boys face reddens, because he has lost so much already, and that loss is gnawing and scraping at him, hollowing him out, and he needs it to be gone. Crying hasn't worked. Pleading to God hasn't worked. Running away hasn't worked. Now all he has left is this all-consuming rage, and it's begging for air, clawing at his chest for freedom. He is dying a slow and painful death, that won't end. "Please," Dick cries.

"Anchors can be memories, thoughts, emotions," Bruce continues. "But they can be people, too."

Dick breathes out a long breath, and his fists unclench. He wipes his face roughly. "Is Alfred an anchor?" He relents.

Bruce gives a small smile. "Yes." He says. "but we must be careful, one anchor can become the other."

"How?" Dick finally looks up at Bruce.

Bruce sighs, and walks over to the boy. "Dick, how would you feel if something bad happened to Alfred?"

"I would be piss- angry. I would be angry." Dick says.

"Anger is an anchor, dragging you along the ocean's sea bed. Therefore, Alfred has the potential-, "

"Selina," Dick asks, and watches as the man goes still in front of him. "Which Anchor is she?"

Bruce huffs through his nose, but a faint smile remains. "You did good today." He says. "Go wash up. We're done for now."

Dick sighs heavily, and the dark glare returns in his eyes. He liked Bruce yesterday. He hates Bruce today, but he needs him. He needs him so he can get stronger, and faster. Better. He needs to learn everything he can, so one day, he can hunt down the people who killed his parents and tear them apart, like they did to his family. "Fine. Whatever." He picks up his staff and leaves the room.

And Kory follows him.

* * *

Notes: We're back in Gotham next chapter with some flashbacks. (FYI: Anything Kory sees is real, but everything in Gotham is manifested by Dick or Trigon) Thanks for reading. x


	8. Chapter 8: Anchors

**A/N:** Every time I edit and format the chapter, I find it has disappeared after publication, so I apologize in advance if you find the chapter clumped. I have included line breaks, so fingers crossed.

**Summary:** Dick struggles to come to terms with Batman's latest attack_. (Flashbacks are included in this chapter)_

_Dear Leeeel, I am lost for words. Speechless. Terrified. Overjoyed. Validated. Please accept my most humbled thanks! Your review brought tears to my eyes. As a writer who has always been too afraid and too perfectionist to follow through with querying agents, I've found freedom in the art of fanfiction. I truly enjoy the world of Titans, and all its characters so I am deeply, deeply moved by your reviews. I think I'll print and litter my walls with reviews such as these in the hopes it will inspire in me bravery and courage to pursue publication. xx  
_

_Dear Guest, thank you so much! I appreciate hearing from you. xx_

* * *

2 ½ years ago

_Dick shoves the Grape colored, velvet three-seater against the wall and slumps on it. He's been pulling and pushing it around Kory's intimate living room for the last twenty-five minutes, because she can't seem to settle on a place to retire it. He flexes his back, and then reaches up, crossing his arm over his chest to squeeze his shoulder. "Good here?"_

_Kory's standing by the front door looking at it. Her arms are crossed, and she has her little finger clenched between her teeth. "I like it. Do you like it? I mean, it looked good by the window, too."_

_Dick huffs and runs his hand over his mouth. He's tired and he just wants to sit on the couch with her and pretend to be working while she sprawls across his lap engrossed in Drag Race. "I like it wherever you like it."_

_Kory eats up the space between them with her long legs and begins massaging his shoulders. He groans with approval. "I think it's been a long day, and you're exhausted." She kneels in front of him, wrapping her arms around his back. "I like it here."_

_He smiles. "The couch and I thank you."_

_"Try not to hide your relief," Kory stands and drops on the couch beside him. "I guess I should just be happy we're not sitting on the floor, or that thing anymore," she points to the beaten-up lounger with her foot._

_"Yeah, there's that," he chuckles, shifting back into the couch, and she automatically leans into him, curling her feet behind her and resting her head on his shoulder. He settles beside her and leans back so her body isn't twisted and drapes his arm around her back. _

_Turns out home improvement wasn't as simple as cashing out in one store in a single day. Kory had to have the right materials and fabrics, and colors were just as important as shapes. It had taken them weeks to finally fill the apartment, and it could've taken even longer on her bar salary, if she wasn't such a charmer. Men and women bargained down for her, and he didn't mind one bit, because it had been the most entertaining, pleasant thing about the whole ordeal. _

_But finally, with her couch being the last item, it was complete. She had a home, and he had been the one to help her make it._

_"I'm hungry," she says noncommittally._

_He finds his hands in her hair, massaging her head. "Thai?"_

_"We had that last night," Kory moans. "Why don't we take a walk and find one of those food trucks."_

_"Yeah, OK." His phone rings. "Hold on," he untangles from her and walks towards the bedroom, glancing back at her as she unfolds on the couch and flicks the TV on._

_When he finally returns, she's stretched out and fast asleep. He smiles and slips his hand into his pocket, leaning against the door frame. _

_He can't remember a time where he wasn't restless, sleepless or burdened. It had started after his parents died. First came the nightmares, turning his body rigid and cold, and then insomnia, leaving pins and needles in his blood when the memories would inevitably visit him. So, he got himself accustomed to working hard and long; in his training with Bruce, patrolling the streets, with his cases, and working out every day and night until his heart threatened to burst. And it worked mostly, to keep all his ghosts at bay.  
_

_In the end, with the unsocial routine he fell into, trying to stay ahead of his past, it became easier to be alone. To be a castaway, perpetually adrift. _

_But he hasn't felt that way in a while, he realizes, as he watches Kory pressing his jacket between her head and shoulder. __He feels grounded with her. Normal. And that is saying a lot, considering he's in love with an alien warrior assassin who can shoot fire out of her hands._

_Dick pushes off the door and closes the space between them, kneeling in front of her and moving her curls away from her face. Her features are soft and plump. "Kor," he says gently. "Hey,"_

_She opens one eye. "I'm tired."_

_"I can see that," he chuckles, running his thumb along the curve of her jaw. "Hey," he says when she closes her eye. "Guess what – my friend, Jonah got back to me."_

_Kory opens both her eyes this time. "Your friend in the FBI who owes you for saving his ass?"_

_He smiles. "It's happening," and scoots onto the couch as she sits up. "It took a while to set up a trail documenting your decorated career across country." He takes her legs, draping them across his lap. "With a few write-ups for a hot temper." Dick laughs at that, his little input. "But he did it. Your transfer was sent through to the C.P.D this morning."_

_"Dick," Kory leaps into his arms and his come around her back. "Thank you." She leans back, still in his lap, and frowns. "What about those cops I-,"_

_"You made a mistake," Dick reaches up, pushing her hair back. "We set up an undercover cover story in case it ever comes out. You were in deep and would've blown your cover." He pulls her in for a kiss, deciding he won't tell her about compensating the cop she injured out of his pocket, anonymously, because she feels guilty enough and he wants her to have a have fresh start._

_"Do you think I'm ready?" Kory asks. "You think I'll make a good detective?"_

_"Kory," Dick says incredulously. "Yes. We've been patrolling the streets for a while now and you've been helping me with my cases. I'd say you were at an advantage actually." He smiles, tightening his hold around her waist. "You have a detective's instinct. And I'm going to be with you, to help you settle in. OK?"_

_Kory nods._

_"He's going to send everything including your IDs, through a private courier. You have to learn it. Where you've been, why you left your last post. Find at least one big landmark and one or two quaint details about each place recorded. And one more thing." He kisses her forehead. "Your hair is beautiful. Gorgeous. I love your hair."_

_"I have to change my entire look, don't I?" She asks dryly._

_"Yes." Dick says. "Cams only caught the hair. Uniform have a rough estimate of your height, but everything else is circumstantial. No facial recognition. No prints. You're practically a ghost. An unsolved mystery, and I'd like to keep that way. If we can avoid the cover story, we should."_

_Kory scoffs. "Won't my career across country come across as fickle?"_

_"You can't be perfect," Dick laughs. "Besides, I have a feeling your rolling stone days are over, don't you?"_

_Kory smiles and leans in for a kiss. "Let's go to bed and celebrate."_

_Dick squeezes her tighter as she dips the tip of her tongue in his mouth and heat rushes to his groin. "How about we christen this couch?"_

_Kory snorts and pulls back to look at him. "You're cute." She takes his hand, climbing off his lap and pulls him into the bedroom._

_Later. An incessant bell stirs Dick awake and he stretches across the bed to feel around the bedside table for his phone. "Hello," his voice is laced thick with sleep and his eyes are still closed, until he hears Donna's voice on the other end. "Are you okay?" he sits up and flicks on the side light, eyeing Kory who is now stirring awake. "Are you sure?"_

_She turns over onto her back, blinking at the light. "What is it?"_

_"Dawn's in labor," he explains. "Donna, are you sure? OK. Keep me updated and if she needs anything-, alright, bye."_

_Kory sits up, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Is she okay?"_

_Dick's staring at his phone. "Yeah," he says. "Donna's on her way to the hospital now,"_

_"She's not with her?" Kory yawns, and tilts her head at Dick. "Dick?"_

_He turns to her. "Sorry. No, Donna was at an exhibition out of town." He smiles, swallowing the guilt slowly spreading across his chest, because he promised Dawn she wouldn't be alone and she was. "I'm sure she'll make it back though. I took 26 hours."_

_"And Gar took 30 minutes," Kory scoffs. "Some of us are more eager than others,"_

_"When did you and Gar-," Dick frowns at her and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. But then he loses focus, lost in thought, wondering what Hank would think of him. "You know what, never mind."_

_"You should go." Kory says, and he turns to her with brows knitted. "She shouldn't be alone." A sigh. "You have to go."_

_"No, Kory," Dick starts. "I'm sure Donna will make it."_

_"You should go." Kory flashes a grin. "Make sure."_

_Dick leans over and kisses her briefly. "I'm sorry," he says, planting another kiss on her forehead. He climbs out of bed and slips his boxers and sweatpants on. "I promise, I'll make it up to you. We'll celebrate properly with Gar and Rachel, and Donna, OK?" he rushes a t-shirt over his head, and then leans over the bed, kissing her again. "I love you," Dick heads out of the room. "Go back to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow." _

_And then he closes the front door and freezes. He swallows, and turns back, because he just said he loved her, to her face, for the first time._

_His brain ties itself in knots in record time. Did she hear him, does she feel the same, did he say it too soon, did he take too long to say it, why did he say that way, should he go inside, or call her from the hospital? Maybe he should let her sleep on it and call her in the morning. Maybe he should go back inside and explain, but he's in love with her and that's a longer conversation. Does she love him as much as he loves her and fuck, he can't stop, he can't stop thinking, about the way he said it, and that she didn't say it back. But she was probably stunned, and now he can't wait to see her again, because this means something, this is a new step, and he's said it now so it's out in the open, finally, and what if -_

_His phone rings, and he answers. Thank God, he thinks. "Donna?" He stares over his shoulder at the door one last time. "Yeah. I'm on my way." _

* * *

Dick slams through the double doors of the Asylum and skips down the steps two at a time. He's pacing up and down the busy sidewalk. His fists are clenched so tight he can feel indentation marks in the palms of his hands, and it feels like his heart is squeezing air out of his chest. "Son of bitch," his voice is laced thick with anger.

Sirens are flashing, uniform litter the premises like ants, and bodies keep being carried out. Countless bodies, bloodied and broken, and he can't keep this rage inside, he can't hold it in. He's going to – he needs to –

Dick catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window of cruiser. Behind him, also reflecting in the glass is a batman tag on the wall "our dark knight", and he roars, smashing his fist into it. The glass shatters, raining down on his shoes and the curb, and everyone stops to look at him.

Kory comes down the stairs. "Dick,"

He can barely hear her voice over the sound of his heart thumping against his chest, over the feeling of his blood boiling so hot it itches his skin. But she's there, and he clings to her voice. "He needs to be stopped." He turns to her. "Innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire. People who are just doing their fucking jobs."

"Hey," she steps into his line of sight, but she doesn't touch him, and he's grateful because he isn't sure he'd be able to feel it while he's on fire. "breathe," her voice is gentle, and coaxing, and she steps in his way as he moves. "it'll pass, if you let it,"

"It's like he's goading me," Dick grounds out through clenched teeth.

"Dick," Kory whispers, and her forehead creases. "This isn't about you, remember, this is about him. He has demons, we all do, but he stopped fighting his a long time ago." She closes the gap between them, and now he can look at her. "What I saw in there, that wasn't Bruce. That's not the work of a man who took in a young boy he wanted to help. That's not the man you knew."

She was right. This wasn't the work of a man he knew, the Batman he knew. Yes, he'd gotten more violent over the years, Gotham could do that to a person, but murder, no. In all fairness the Joker was a raw point, but Bruce was just a traumatized person trying to help other traumatized people and trying to keep everyone in between safe from them. These people were mentally ill, and he knew that, it was the first lesson Dick learned – Bruce only wanted to stop them. Not punish them.

He cared more for the innocent, but there was something tender and hidden inside Bruce for some of the people he stopped, even when he was doing whatever it took, using as much force required, Dick knew it was there. But this, he couldn't reconcile with.

"The man I knew is gone," Dick says and his shoulders sag, and his chin quivers, but he locks his jaw and let's go of a measured breath. "Bruce is gone." He leans his head back towards the sky. He loses everyone. Eventually.

"Look at me," Kory says. "Dick," she pulls his face down to her. "Ever since you left Gotham behind it's been haunting you. The way you feel about what happened between the two of you, everything he said, and everything you wanted him to say has become a ghost that's followed you around. Weighed you down." She bites her lip. "Everything you've done since has been in _reaction_ to him. Dick, Bruce isn't the fight – how you feel about him is, that's your ghost. That's your demon." She swallows and pinches his chin. "So, what do you want to do now, huh? Do you want to react like you've been doing, or do you want to respond this time?"

Dick heaves a heavy sigh.

* * *

2 Years Ago

_Dick's been watching officer Roman sniff around Kory for months now. He's watched her laugh at men who approached her, and not in a mocking way, but a genuine 'you're funny' kind of way, which isn't the biggest ego boost when the goal was to leave with her number. But Roman isn't an average cop or male, he is self-possessed, built like a warrior and has a sense of humor, and Dick might hate him._

_Roman has been perched on the edge of Kory's desk for the past fifteen minutes, oblivious to his size, and potential to snap it in half. "Focus." Dick searches his unusually unkempt desk for a pen to finish up his report, but she keeps laughing, and it's in an ego boosting kind of way that draws him back to them._

_He and Kory are over and that means he has no say or right to get in the middle of who she decides is a suitable date. He's with Dawn now and Johnny is growing so fast they can barely keep up with him, but then he sees Kory, and he feels like a fraud and a liar. He has to sit beside her all day in a car and across from her in the precinct, and that's hard enough without having to watch her fall for someone else in front of him. _

_After Kory ended it, all he had was time, and he and Dawn just happened. Kory and Roman aren't just happening, they're unfolding, and he can't bear to watch._

_He finds a pencil and Roman's husky laugh draws him back to them, and at the sight of the burly man leaning into her ear, his heart jumps up into his throat. Kory moves her hair behind her ear and smirks, and Dick snaps the pencil in half. "Will someone get me a fucking pen?" He shouts, and bootlickers' line up with an assortment for him, but Kory and Roman are in a soundproof bubble and he thinks at any moment he might have a heart attack. _

_When Kory finally leaves her desk, Dick springs up from his chair and is on her heel as she heads for the coffee room. He walks up behind her, foregoing personal space and joins her beside the sink as she puts a pot on to boil. "That guys an asshole,"_

_Kory turns to him and leans against the counter. "What guy?"_

_"Roman," Dick says bitterly, his mouth curling into a snarl._

_"Oh. O.K." Kory turns away, drumming her fingers against the counter top._

_Dick huffs. He doesn't know what he expects her to say or do, or how he should feel about it, but he can't stop himself, even though he feels foolish. "Are you gonna go out with him?"_

_"I might," she replies, deadpan, as she pours herself a cup of coffee. "You want one?" She holds her mug up in the air and then reaches into the cupboard to retrieve another._

_"He likes you." Dick says. "But he's not exactly the faithful type. Last month an officer had to escort one of his-,"_

_Kory spins on her heel to face him. "How's Dawn?" She swipes her tongue across her teeth._

_Dick almost doubles over but steadies himself against the counter. His stomach twists violently, and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. A dull ache spreads through his chest, and he clenches his jaw to keep from saying something that'll reopen old wounds. "She's fine. They're both fine. Good. They're good."_

_Kory swallows, and then she nods, turning her back to him. "Good. I'm glad."_

_He sees it clear as day, how she struggles to swallow and how her fingers stiffen around the mug. Part of him is relieved he isn't the only one hurting, that there's a possibility she is feeling a fraction of the devastation he feels every time he sees her, because this hurt eclipses everything else. Being together, but not together, in the same place, every day, stings like an open wound that won't heal, and he's tried. God, he's tried to accept how abruptly they ended and move forward without any real answers from her, because he has this new life, but he's failing at it._

_"How are you?" Dick breathes out. "Are you okay?"_

_Kory drops her shoulders, and after an eternity, she finally turns back to him, and smiles. "I'm fine. Good. I'm good." She pours another coffee and picks up both mugs. "Get it while it's still hot."_

_Dick bites into his lip so hard he tastes blood, when she leaves him standing alone with the weight of all that went unsaid. He wants to punch a brick wall until there's nothing left of his hand, so he can channel every feeling and every thought towards another blistering pain. And yet, this pain is all he has left of her, and he can't lose that, too. _

* * *

Dick sits on the edge of the desk looking over all the bloodied photos of Batman's latest attack. Kory leans over them too, drawing her fingers over old records from the Asylum, while Duane buses himself pinning their mugshots to the wall.

Finney was 'kind' enough to give them an interview room to work in if it meant he had extra assistants, but it really meant, they owed him because they stepped in another of his crime scenes unsolicited. But he didn't have extra assistance, because this was Dick responding to Bruce instead of reacting to him. He was going to use the evidence to draw a straight line from Batman to him, and then he was going home, like he promised Kory.

"You ever tell Kory 'bout the time-," Duane begins again.

"No, I didn't tell her about the time," Dick interjects. "Will you stop so we can get through this, please?" He's serious, but he can't help smiling, because he and Duane had a lot of times and most of them included women, and that did not need repeating.

So far, he's only shared academy stories, but he noticed Kory's interest increasing and didn't need them becoming friends. "Alright, man, let's get this done. Then it's shots at the bar." Duane declares.

Dick smiles. "Alright, whatever."

"Arkham was a goldmine." Duane pins up two-face's mug shot beside the Joker's, the Mad Hatter and the Ventriloquist. "One Bat and several stones."

"He's clearly on a rampage," Kory says. "And I get the sense he wants to take it all the way off a cliff."

Dick swallows, and he and Kory share a knowing look. He straightens his back and walks over to Duane, studying the pictures. "the Joker and Batman have been – preoccupied with each other for a very long time,"

"I guess it was going to end up with one of them dead eventually," Duane concedes. "He's been goading the Bat to turn it up a notch for years. I guess Commissioner Gordon was the motivation he needed to take it all the way up."

"And who stops Batman when he can't stop himself?" Dick asks rhetorically. "Duane, could you check the database for any missing persons, recent releases or admittance for Arkham in the last two weeks, please."

"Sure," Duane heads out of the room and he follows behind, making sure to close the door. He scrubs both hands over his face and let's go out a weary sigh. "Joker was in the business or rule breaking. Chaos." He swallows. "It looks like he finally got Bruce to break the only one he had, but I don't get this Arkham attack. They're locked up. There's no justice in that."

"I don't think we're going to find any rhyme or reason to this, Dick." Kory sits on the edge of the desk and picks up a file, taking her time to digest the information. "We'll find them a lead." She mutters as she reads, and then she looks up at him. "Unless he wanted someone specific and killed everyone to hide it."

Dick turns his body to her and pushes his hands into his pockets. "He had a beef with most of the guys in there,"

"The maybe he didn't find who he wanted. They're locked up, and like you said," Kory stands up. "There's no justice in that. Unless he didn't the justice he wanted, and lashed out. Was there anyone who matched him skill for skill – someone he couldn't outsmart or catch, a real adversary," she walks over to him, glancing over the pictures. "I think he had someone in mind, and he went to that Asylum, maybe not to look for him, but to find the one who would could tell him where to look."

Dick stills. One name comes to mind, but he knows there's been nothing, not even a whisper of him since before he left Gotham. He's slipped from Bruce's grasp a time or two. It was the only time he remembers seeing Bruce nervous, like maybe he wasn't ready to face the darkness he told Dick was necessary. "There was one," he starts towards table piled high with case files.

Duane pushes the door open and walks over to the wall. "There were 2 nut jobs reported missing a week ago, both of them locked up in the same block. There was a third who ran with them, but he's dead." He pins each picture up and stands back, resting his hand on his hips. "Trogg, Zombie, and-,"

"Bird," Dick says. "What happened to him?"

"He was killed right before they escaped." Duane explains. "Trogg claimed it was the Bat, but he's in an asylum so no one believed him."

Dick nudges aside the box of Arkham files and begins shuffling through Finney's 'special interest' files, documenting Gotham's abnormal criminals. "I know who he's going after." He pulls everything out and shakes them loose. "He uses brutal force and is exceptionally intelligent, but he does have a weakness,"

"Who?" Kory asks.

He finds a singular picture from a newspaper, small and discolored, and tears it out. "Bane." He pins it to the wall.

Finney waltz' in, hands on his hips, and stares at them in silence. "Well? Am I arresting the two of you for interfering in my case for the second time, or do you have something I can use to catch the Bat?" he sniffles.

Dick huffs. "OK. The Joker was playful, right? He loved games and chaos, and in some twisted way, he was fond of Batman because he'd found someone fascinatingly different to him. He was never going to hurt him, not really." He walks over to the desk and grabs the newspaper, unfolding it to reveal the front page. 'Man in Mask Terrorizes Gotham' "This man is nothing like the Joker. He is not playful in the slightest, and he's beat Batman before. If this is revenge, or some kind of justice, Bane is who Batman wants next."

"And the three men," Duane adds, "one murdered, the other two missing, disappeared a week ago. They were broken out by a man fitting this description." He points to Bane. "Some big, bald, white dude with a mask."

"There's one problem," Finney says. "We don't have anything beside that old article on Bane – nothing that'll lead us to him, and we don't know who Batman is. We can't intercept a bloody rematch if we don't know where it's going to be. So, thanks for nothing."

Dick glances at Kory and she nods her head. He takes a breath. "You don't have nothing," he says, and his heart goes into a race. "I know who Batman is."

* * *

**Notes:** A little heads up, this story has around 5 chapters left, and will end as a finale (because finale remix), BUT will also have some resolution, too. I hope you enjoyed this one. The next is back in the real world with Rachel and Gar. Also, Kory is still being dragged through Dick's memories.


	9. Chapter 9 - Rachel

A/N:

Summary: As Rachel grows weaker, the longer she remains a bridge between Kory and Dick, Kory continues to be swept up in Dick's early memories with Bruce.

* * *

Rachel feels a chill start in the soles of her feet and tingle its way up and through her body. Her mind wants to wander, and her bones want to fall apart, but she holds on tight, centering every fiber of her being on Dick and Kory. They're light as balloons, she coaches herself, and all she has to do it keep it - them, from floating away is not let go.

But the room spins like she's trapped on a ride at the fair. The dim lights flash brighter and the silence grows louder. Her eyes flit up to Trigon and she examines him for weaknesses, wondering if he is wearing her down, or if this overwhelm is just a consequence of her using her powers in a way she never has before. And how she's able to move, and think, while Trigon seems subdued.

Kory is moving closer to Dick, but she's overwhelmed by him, and losing herself in his most vulnerable memories. Exhaustion is seeping through because what feels like minutes to her, is hours to Kory and days to Dick, and she's trying to hold them all together.

She catches movement in her periphery and turns to the wall, squinting at the morphing detail. The old wallpaper shifts, its colors swirling and melting into each other, and she shakes her head to free herself from the hallucination. "No." She groans. "I know you can do this." Rachel speaks to herself, as well as Kory.

Sweat trickles down the back of her neck, beads along her hairline and collects on her upper lip. She glances at Dick and her heart aches, they had a few false starts, but he's always tried to protect her and now he's being rewarded with torture by her father.

A tremble sets under her feverish skin. The longer she tethers Kory to Dick, the heavier the balloons become, but she doesn't know what will happen if she loses Kory. If she will be trapped inside Dick's mind until he wakes, _if_ he wakes, violently ripped away like she was, or lost somewhere in between. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes. She can't let anything happen to Kory, or Dick, she has to hold on. She has to keep going, because they're her only hope of getting Gar as far away from her and her parents as possible.

Rachel inhales sharply as Dick's emotions for Kory flares. She can feel him reaching out to her, but there's so much between them, keeping them apart, and she wonders if all relationships are this complicated. Their feelings are new, but strong, and somehow has breeded fear and confusion, and uncertainty. She doesn't understand why any of their crap is getting in the way, why time matters, or ideal circumstances have to precede what they feel, which is this tenderness and yearning, alive and breathing inside of them both. It makes her want to barf, but deep down she hopes they find a way, and she knows she shouldn't be surfing through their emotions, but these are desperate times.

He likes her and she likes him, it feels simple, but he hesitates, and she retreats thinking it's rejection when it's fear. She wishes she could tell them because it's the thing keeping them apart both in the real world, and his dream.

Rachel glances up at the ceiling, listening for movement, and then she stammers to her feet and crosses the short way to the kitchen. She fills a glass of water and gulps it down, leaning against the counter. Her eyes fall closed and she listens to the rush of water hitting the sink. She slips her hand under its spray and the relief is instant. They're light as a balloons, she coaches. They're light as a balloons.

* * *

"Dick," Kory calls after the teenager as he enters a long, shadowy hall. "Wait up," she follows, and tries to keep up, but she loses her way and him. "Dick?"

Kory searches the rooms, but they're all so similar in color and design, she starts to feel like she's chasing her tail. The feeling she's been in one of these rooms, or many of them many times occurs to her. She stops when her head starts to spin, when she can't remember which way she came from.

In the distance she hears a sound and tilts her head to examine it further: Running water. Walking through the dimly lit hall towards the sound, she notices a light at the end and enters the room. It's a well lit office, and Dick is in there with a woman sitting beside him. She wears glasses, has curly hair and sad eyes.

Dick burns a hole in the wall in front of him while the woman stares at him. "Mr. Wayne is waiting outside. But you have a choice to make, Dick, once and for all." She sits forward, folding her arms across her lap. "You can either continue down this destructive path, stealing cars and getting arrested, out to avenge your parents which," she sighs, pushing her glasses up her nose with her index finger. "will not end well." a pause. "Dick, look at me, please."

Dick finally turns to her.

"Or you can give him a real chance." She reaches over and briefly squeezes his shoulder. "You have to let someone in sooner or later. I can help you. Mr. Wayne can help you. But you have to accept it, Dick. You have to want it." She stands up with his case file against her hip. "I hope this is the last time we see each other like this." Opening the door, she waves the older man in. "Mr. Wayne."

Bruce steps in and closes the door behind him. Kory instinctively moves to Dick's side and stands behind his chair, watching the man. He stands tall and wide, exuding power, but she senses a tenderness towards Dick, in the way he disarms himself, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opens his coat. And the way he remains by the door, respecting or being hesitant to enter the teenager's space.

"What do you want from me?" Dick asks. "A thank you?"

Bruce gestures to the chair beside him. "May I?"

Dick pushes his face into his fist. "Whatever."

Bruce moves from the door and rounds the chair to sit down. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders, and Kory wonders if he's ever done anything like this before, if he has experience with teenagers at all. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't want anything from you?"

Dick shrugs.

"I'm here to release you back to the social worker," Bruce says, dropping his head. "If that's what you want," he takes a breath. "I believe she's one of the good ones."

Dick looks at him for the first time, but he can't find the words, and Kory's heart aches because he has it all wrong. He is wanted contrary to what he believes. "Fine."

"Of course," Bruce looks straight on, at the plain wall. "I would like it if you stayed. But I won't decide that for you."

Dick's shoulders fall and he sighs heavily, but he's relieved. Kory knows that much. "M'sorry I stole the Porsche," he mutters.

"Technically, it wasn't stealing, if you planned on coming back." Bruce smiles, finally looking at the boy. "And you are in my custody, so you were joy riding your guardian's car."

Dick gives a lopsided grin, and sits forward. "But I was driving underage."

"Yes," Bruce smirks. "There are no technicalities for that," he leans back into the chair and crosses his leg, facing Dick with his body now.

Dick mirrors the older man's pose. "So, what happens, _if_ I come back?"

"There will be rules," Bruce says, narrowing his eyes on the boy, and Kory senses the beginning of a kinship. "But you're a teenage boy. I won't deny you the occasional misdemeanor, and what I mean by that is, I don't expect you'll be perfect," he chuckles lightly. "The car remains in pristine condition and I take that to mean two things, one, you're an excellent driver, and two, you have great respect and admiration for the machine. That's something we have in common."

Dick shrugs. "It spoke to me," he says in a playful tone.

"Yes, I believe it did." Bruce stands and pulls his coat together. "Here is my proposition: You can go to the best schools, train in any art, sport or science program you wish with the world's best tutors, and travel the world - see all it has to offer. You will want for nothing. You can have a normal life."

Dick stands. "like I told her, I'm going to find the people who killed my parents and -,"

Bruce holds his hand up. "Or I help you channel your anger into something else." He glances over his shoulder and eyes the social worker in conversation through the window. "I do what I can to protect Gotham. I try to make sure the streets are safe at night, but together-,"

Dick frowns, he thinks he may know who Bruce really is, from the moment he arrived at the Manor. He'd seen things, heard things, but he'd never asked. "Who are you?"

"I believe you know already," Bruce says. "I will train you day and night. I will exhaust you. I will enrage you. I will hurt you. But you will have a place to put your rage," he pins Dick with a look. "What I do, you will do better. But once you're in, there is no going back to a normal life. Once you've seen what I seen, you cannot unsee it."

"Yes." Dick interjects.

"Think about it," Bruce urges, with a light chuckle at the boy's eagerness. "And keep in mind - what I do is not a cure for your grief."

"I'm in..." Dick says with an impressive smile. "Batman."

Bruce smiles and reaches into his pocket, retrieving his keys and throws it in the air. Dick catches it. "Porsche is yours. The manor is your road from now on, until you're of age. I'll give you real lessons."

Dick gazes at the keys lovingly. He fails to mention his father already taught him. "Cool."

"Lesson number one." Bruce dusts his coat. "Almost anything can be forgiven, but one must want forgiveness and the other must want to forgive."

Dick raises an eyebrow at that. "Are shitty fortune cookie speeches part of the deal?"

Bruce scoffs. "Alfred cooked apple pie last night. He did it for you, to settle you, to comfort you. And now it's cold. Alfred does not reheat anything, ever."

"Oh." Dick takes a moment to consider this. "Then I'll make him an apple pie to make up for it."

Bruce huffs through his nose. "It's a start." He opens the door, and Kory watches as they leave the room and it swings shut. She can see them in the window, between the shutters, talking to the social worker. She seems happy with their news, and Kory smiles, maybe Bruce wasn't always so bad.

"Bruce Wayne is Batman,"

Kory spins to find Dick when she hears his voice, but the room is empty. "Dick?" She turns back to the window and they're gone. Bruce, the woman and teen Dick. Kory rushes over to the door, pulling it open and steps out.

The buzzing office shifts and changes in shape and color right in front of her eyes, and she finds herself in a police station. Uniforms traffic the office, and an incessant ringing of phones joins the clashing of voices all over the room. But among the noise and the traffic, she finds him. Dick stands in a room, and it's as though he's been waiting for her.

Kory starts towards him and curls her hand around the door handle, pausing when she sees him in there with two men. Her heart stops when she recognizes Trigon is one of them, but he's in a meat-suit. Fuck.

* * *

Rachel runs back to the sofa and slumps down, as Gar comes down the stairs with Angela in tow. His face melts when their eyes meet which only makes her worry more. She straightens her back and puts on a smile for Angela.

Angela pauses after she rounds the sofa and takes Rachel in. "Everything alright, honey?"

"It's-I'm a little hot, that's all." Rachel shrugs out of her jacket. "Are we allowed to have a window open?"

"Sure," Angela's jaw hardens, but she moves to open the window above the piano. "Better?"

"Actually," Gar leans back and forth on the heel of his foot, as Angela sits down. "I'm starving."

"Of course, you are," Angela smiles, but her eyes remain cold. "Grilled cheeses, okay?"

Rachel and Gar nod enthusiastically, and she scoots off the couch, heading for the kitchen. Only then does Rachel let her shoulders fall from her ears.

Gar sits on the arm of the couch. "I kept her distracted as long as I could." He sighs. "But believe it or not my life as a Tiger so far has not been that exciting,"

Rachel laughs weakly, because she's trying to keep from barfing, while assuring him she's okay. "Kory's found Dick, but I don't I know how much longer I can hold on."

"OK." Gar nods. "Well, maybe you need someone else's help," he nudges her. "You know, the other one - with the voice."

"I can't," Rachel cries. "I don't know if it's a good idea."

"OK," Gar says. "Then it's my turn," he cups her shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll think of something."

"Gar, no," she calls after him as he leaps of the couch and joins Angela in the kitchen. She swallows and turns back, taking a breath. The balloon is slowly turning to led which leaves her with two choices; wait it out until her body gives in or let _her_ in and hope she can control the surge of overwhelming power that takes over. And she has the time it's going to take Angela to make grilled cheese sandwiches to decide.


	10. Chapter 10 - Lost

A/N: There are two Korys in this chapter, real Kory and DreamKory.

Summary: In Dick's dreamPast, the thing that broke him and Kory up, and kept them apart comes to light. Meanwhile, Finney/Trigon does his best to lure Dick into a deal he can't refuse.

* * *

3 Years Ago

Dick listens to the rain pour down, pelting against the large bay window of Kory's bedroom. The pale sunlight pushes through dark, stormy clouds to light a path across their entangled feet and shine on the wall in the otherwise overcast room. It's Sunday afternoon. The pair have an unspoken rule about spending those together, in between the sheets, warm body to warmer body.

Dick's still sated from their lazy morning cuddle-sex, wrapped up in each other, close and hot, and dizzied, but he's looking forward to round two and three before tonight. Gar and Rachel will be down from school by that time for an entire week and her apartment is too intimate for anything more than a quickie in the shower. However, Kory is absolutely fine having sex with company staying over and talking about it, too, but he gets a little flushed when it becomes the topic of conversation, so she agreed to keep all topics PG-13.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck and pushes his fingers between hers.

"We should shower soon." Kory says with a begrudging groan. "We're gross – and we have company in less than six hours."

Dick plants a kiss on her shoulder. "Five more minutes."

Kory shifts her hips a little, so she is flush against him, backside to crotch and wriggles. "Five?"

"I meant ten." He kisses her neck, licking and sucking there. "But I'm showering on my own because you're a bathroom hazard." He scrapes his teeth over the wet patch of skin, starting to bruise, and smiles when he feels her shudder against him.

Kory laughs. "What?" she turns over her shoulder.

"I like my water on hot and you like yours on blistering." Dick says. "I'd like to keep my skin."

She elbows him and settles back. "Punk."

The rain has settled, he notes, listening to the tiny pelts, almost soundless now. This he could fall asleep to. The sound of the rain and the warmth and softness of Kory's body beside his.

When he first started staying over, he couldn't sleep fall asleep right away. He was too restless, too aware of differences in the spring of his mattress and hers, and the harmony of her apartment noises in contrast to his. He could hear the hum of her fridge and the gentle, almost inaudible drip-drop of water leaking from her faucet. He noticed how the air circulated, and the temperature remained even. How the light came into the room and the floorboards they'd been walking on all day, slowly regained its original posture at night, creaking and popping.

But it was his restlessness that allowed him to be up when Kory needed him. When a nightmare had gripped her, and her skin grew warm to the touch. She would reach out to thin air and he would be there to give her something to hold on to, to coax her awake with a gentle, "hey," and then sink back with her in his arms.

And then finally, he would sleep.

Dick realizes he hasn't had to do that for a while. Even though he sleeps much better, it has never been particularly deep, and he knows he would hear her having a nightmare, because he hears her every move. He curls his fingers around hers, a little tighter. "You haven't had a bad dream in a while."

Kory pushes her backside against his crotch. "I've been busy," she teases.

Dick chuckles lightly and takes a moment to ponder before speaking again. "Have they stopped?"

Kory sighs, and he loosens his grip to make room when she turns in his arms, so they are face to face. He can see it in her eyes, when it's on her mind, and it has been for weeks, though the green in them never loses that beautiful glow, behind them, he sees her thoughts of home.

"For now," she finally answers.

He swallows. It feels like a rock expanding in his chest making it hard to breathe every time he sees that look, and he feels selfish for hoping she never wants to go home. Though waiting for the day, she inevitably decides she has to, doesn't feel much better. Tamaran isn't just her home, it's part of her identity, and finding out who she is will never be complete until she knows more about it.

"What is it?" He braves, but he already knows.

"I don't know," she says. "I guess I'm still trying to figure everything out, you know." She glances down, tracing a small circular pattern across his chest. "I'm not sure how I fit some days."

Dick draws his hand up her back to her neck and rubs his thumb there, hoping to soothe her. "What do you mean?"

Kory looks at him. "I have this whole other life on another planet and I'm remembering more about it." She closes her eyes. "What the air felt like. How the food tasted. The music – the language. My power." Kory opens her eyes. "But it doesn't _feel_ like home, you know," she swallows. "this does."

Dick drops his gaze and breathes out. It's scary how good it feels to be her home and be at home with her, because Tamaran calls and he knows deep down, one day, she'll have to answer. And he'll want to her answer because she deserves her past, and her history, but it hurts deeply, in a place he can't reach or soothe. In his gut.

It's the sense of inevitability, of fate. The same way he knew that day, standing outside the motel with Kory; overcome with this keen, esoteric sense that he was going to fall in love with her. Eventually. _Inevitably._

He'd never felt that way about anyone, matter of fact, he didn't believe in fate and destiny, or prophecies. He'd only believed in people, and their capability to either do the right thing, or the wrong thing. What he believed in changed that day.

"It sometimes feels like there are two of me," Kory breaks into his thoughts. "like I'm split down the middle, and I don't where-how I fit in anywhere, or if I ever did." She shrugs. "I don't know where to put that."

Dick finds his hand in her hair, scratching her scalp absentmindedly. "You don't have to fit in. Maybe you're meant to stand out." He smiles solemnly. "But I get it and I want to help you figure it out."

Kory smiles back and then leans in to kiss him. "My hero." She teases.

Dick scoffs. "Yeah. OK."

"And what about you?" She settles back and scoots down, pressing her cheek against his chest.

Dick frowns. "What about me?"

"Well, your suit is gone. Batman has his Robin." She slides her arm under his and around his back. "But you still patrol the streets every other night, when you're not dead on your feet from work."

Dick shifts onto his back and Kory props up onto her elbow. He doesn't want to think about Bruce, or Jason. All he wants to do is start over and never think about that part of his life again.

"I know you want to help people, and you can't do it as Robin anymore." She runs her hand along his chest. "Hey," she says, and he looks at her. "You said being Robin wasn't working, and not being Robin wasn't working, so where does that leave you?"

Dick sighs. "I don't know."

"Dick," Kory leans over him and tilts her head, trying to draw him back to her. "You can talk to me."

Dick meets her eyes and places his hand over hers. "I know."

Kory laughs nervously. "OK, so then talk to me,"

"I'm-," he starts, and then stops himself, because his tongue is pressed against the roof of his mouth and the heat of his anger is spreading across his chest. He doesn't know how to do this. How to think about his life then, and not feel angry, and robbed, and betrayed.

"What?" "Kory asks.

"Nothing." He rests his head against the headboard.

Kory sighs. "Dick,"

"Kory, can we not," he chuckles, trying to break the tension, and sits up.

"You can't just skip over entire parts of your life and think that counts as moving on." Kory cries. "You need to open up once in a while."

Dick looks at her with furrowed eyebrows. "I do. You know how I feel about Bruce."

"No, I know what you think of him," she says. "there's a difference." Kory sits up on her knees. "You don't have to have everything figured out, you know." She takes his hand and holds it in her lap. "Maybe you go back to just being Dick Grayson. Pick up where he left off and figure out what he wanted, and then maybe everything falls into place."

Dick can't find the courage to tell her how he's always been afraid to listen to that voice. To hear the hopes and dreams of the boy he once was before his parents were killed. He isn't sure he'll ever be able to face Dick Grayson because he's hidden behind a mask for so long, using Robin as a way to distance himself, he's scared of what he might find.

"Yeah, maybe." He pulls away, untangling their hands, and sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to shower. Rachel and Gar will probably be here early."

"OK." Kory acquiesces, unfolding her legs and climbing out of the other side of the bed with the blue under sheet wrapped around her body. "I need a coffee." She mumbles.

"Kory," Dick calls after her as she leaves the room, but she doesn't answer.

* * *

"I got the blueprint," Duane walks back into the interview room and sprawls the large paper out on the table.

"What do we need a blueprint of his property for?" Finney leans over Dick's shoulder, so close, Dick can feel his breath on the back of his neck.

"So, I can show you what's underneath it," he takes the proffered sharpie from Duane and begins marking the paper.

Finney laughs. "What, are you going to tell me he has some vigilante lair in his basement or something?"

"Something like that," Dick turns his body, so Finney is beside him and not over him, and labels each point of entry with a star.

"I can't believe Bruce Wayne is the Bat, man." Duane exclaims.

Dick grins at Kory rolling her eyes, she doesn't appreciate the gift that is Duane, but he's okay with that.

"Right," he uses the sharpie to highlight each point. "There are four exit points; the tunnel running under the river, the river, the roof and the main entrance. You should have your men storm the front and send SWAT through the tunnel. If you set up a helicopter presence for overhead surveillance, you'll have the roof and river covered." He stands, flexing his back and drops the pen on the table. "Do you what you can to bring him in alive. He was once this city's hero."

"We'll do our best," Finney says. "But we'd have a better chance of that if you were with us,"

"No." Dick says without missing a beat. "I'm going home. I have a life to get back to."

"Come on, Grayson." Finney goads. "You don't want to see this through to the end? The man took you in. Gave you a roof over your head, clothes and a hot meal."

Dick glances at Kory, but her eyes are on the blueprint. "I'm sorry, but no."

"OK, don't do it for him. Do it for you." Finney steps into Dick's space so that they're almost chest to chest. "You can help us make sure no one else dies at his hands. No more innocent blood spilled. If he hurts someone, one of my men," he glances at Duane. "your friend, it'll be on your conscience,"

"All due respect, sir," Duane squares his shoulders. "taking a risk is part of the job. Besides, Dick ain't the one responsible for the men of Gotham PD."

Finney glares at Duane, but when he turns back to Dick, he's back to his playful grin that somehow resembles shark teeth, and his sing-song voice. He shrugs. "I could just arrest you as his accomplice," Finney ties his hands behind his back and Dick clenches his jaw. "I mean, I'd have to be a fucking idiot to assume anything outside of the cold, hard truth that Bruce Wayne turned his little orphan project into his side-kick, am I right?" Digging into his pocket, he unwraps a piece of gum and tosses it into his mouth. "But I won't, because I need help, Robin."

"I'm not him," Dick clarifies with a snarl. "Not anymore. And I meant what I said," he clenches his fists.

Kory stands, folding the blueprint up, and walks over to the boys. "We've helped all we can," she says. "He gave you Batman's identity, a way in – so do your fucking job and bring him in. _Captain_."

"Too bad," Finney clicks his tongue, chewing aggressively, and obnoxiously on his gum. He pulls his radio from his belt. "Sergeant Montoya, we have a location on Wayne. You have the order to shoot on site. I repeat, shoot on site. Everything you got, you understand? I want his place to look like a wasteland. Roger?"

"Copy that," Montoya's voice comes over the static.

Dick grabs Finney by the shoulder and spins him around. "What the fuck are you doing? That's murder."

"Is it?" Finney smacks, and smacks, and smacks. "See, I think this is what you call, counter-terrorism."

"Dick," Kory grabs his elbow.

"He deserves a trial. A jury. Due process." Dick spits. "It's the law."

Finney scoffs. "He didn't give that green haired Muppet the same courtesy, did he officer Pierce?" He glances at Duane. "Or two-face, or any of those other cosplaying, sick fucks." The captain huffs, sticking his thumbs into his belt. "He's unstable. I'm just protecting my men."

"You're an asshole," Kory snaps.

"Told you he was an asshole," Duane mutters.

Finney steps aside, gesturing to the office full of cops. "I'm just a man in uniform, we all are, and I can't risk my men's lives trying to appeal to a sociopath." He shrugs, nonchalantly. "I don't owe him anything. You, however-,"

"Dick, don't," Kory cautions.

"Alright," Dick yields. "I'll oversee extraction, but I will not engage. Do you understand me?"

Finney holds his hands up. "You got it, boss." He offers his hand and grins when Dick ignores it. "Good man. We move in fifteen." He gets back on his radio as heads out the door, informing the S.W.A.T Sergeant of his altered plans.

"Looks like we're finally getting a chance to work together again," Duane smiles with all his teeth, and Dick sighs because as much as he's a good cop and an even better hacker, he is lousy at reading a room.

Dick reasons in his defense though, because Kory isn't directing her fiery eyes at Duane. "Out," she says.

Duane's face melts, and he looks at Dick, and then it becomes clear. Dick nods, yes, he is in trouble, and Duane takes his leave behind Finney, pulling the door with him.

* * *

3 Years Ago

Dick is exasperated when he lets himself into the apartment. He can barely feel his face after grinding his teeth all day, because of Jason 'Fucking' Todd and now he has a migraine.

He drops his keys on the tiny door-side table and shakes out of his jacket, flinging it over the sofa." Kory," he calls out as he finishes the hall and enters the bedroom.

Kory's boots are at the foot of the bed, along with her jacket speckled with blood and her keys in a pile on the floor. "Kory!" He searches the kitchen and then the bathroom and pushes the door open, rushing in when he finds her hunched over the sink. "What happened?"

"I'm okay," she breathes, standing up with his washcloth pressed to her nose. "I had a nose bleed is all,"

"Here," Dick guides her to the edge of the bathtub to sit down and takes the cloth from her, gently dabbing at her face. "Just a nose bleed?"

Kory sighs.

"Kory,"

"It was another memory," she shakes her head. "This one was a little more - intense, longer,"

"A little," he cries. "Look at you. Why didn't you call me?"

Kory laughs. "Over a headache," she stands, brushing his hand away and walks out of the bathroom. Dick follows her into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, breaking the seal and handing it to her when she sits down at the table.

"Headaches?" He holds his mouth in a tight line. "Anything else I should know?"

"It's only happened twice," Kory confesses, uncapping the water and taking a small sip.

Dick paces the small kitchen. He's so flustered he can barely form thoughts, or words, and now his migraine is screaming. "Why'd you keep it from me?"

"Seriously?" Kory glowers at him.

"Anything could've happened." Dick argues. "Do you understand that – what if they get worse?"

"They won't." Kory takes another sip.

"And you know that for sure?" He is panicked and upset, and a little shaken, and he is doing a bad job of keeping it from talking for him. He relents. "We're still figuring out the extent of your powers, Kory – your physiology, how your emotions effect-,"

"We?" Kory growls, standing up. "Just stop." She wipes at her nose with the back of her hand. " I think we need to take a pause on this."

Dick narrows his eyes on her. "Pause?"

She swallows hard and drops her gaze from his. "On us."

He scoffs, but then he sees the look on her face, and the tremble in her hands as she hugs her elbows. "What are you talking about?"

"We need a break. I need a break." Kory rubs at her arm as though she's cold, but he knows she isn't.

"A break?" Dick laughs mirthlessly, but his chest is feeling a little tight.

"We gave it a try, to see what this was, and it was great-," she whispers, and the tears fall, but still, she doesn't look up. "but it isn't working anymore."

"Kory," He leans off the refrigerator and she steps back. "What's going on?" and he swallows when she fails to answer. "We saw each other this morning," he says quietly. "everything was fine."

Kory wipes and pushes at her nose with the back of her thumb. "How was Jason – did you manage to get him back on track?"

"Don't change the subject," Dick snaps, his face flushing with heat.

"I told you." Kory forces out through clenched teeth.

"You're keeping something from me," he crosses the tiny space, closing the gap between them, and he's relieved when she doesn't move. "just say it."

Kory looks up at him. "There's nothing else," she slips away from him and walks over to the sink. "We both have a lot going on. I'm still processing everything that's coming in, and I don't think I can do that with you."

He sighs heavily and drops his hands by his sides. "I know all this home stuff has been overwhelming. I get that. But we can figure it out like we've been doing."

Kory presses her shoulder to her ear. "I don't want to."

"I don't believe you." He chokes out, breathing heavily.

"I have a whole other life somewhere, Dick. I'm trying to piece it back together." Kory takes a breath. "I've been pretending I'm human when I don't know _what_ I am. Pretending this life is mine, but it isn't real, and it isn't my life. This world is your home, not mine."

Dick grinds his teeth together. "That's just an excuse."

She smiles weakly. "Why keep this up, waiting for the inevitable, why not call it now?"

"Just like that?" Dick says, his voice coarse and accusing, as he glares at her.

"I need space, and I need time." Her mouth quakes and her eyes fill. "Can you give me that?"

Dick moves and he doesn't know where he's going, only that he has to escape this feeling of grief collapsing on top of him, again, and fight this anger and burning pain gripping his chest, again. He walks out, leaving the door open, and he can hear her calling after him, but he has to get away before this crushing feeling kills him.

* * *

Kory ducks behind a desk, watching as Trigon leaves the room he was in with Dick. He was so calm and unnerved that dread settles in the pit of her stomach. She wonders what the demon did to him to and how he was able to hide what he really is. The word mischief comes to mind and she remembers her book mentioning his ability to trick others, and take many forms.

Trigon passes her by, and she goes unnoticed, but she waits a minute more for him to be completely out of sight before she makes a move. A black man leaves shortly after and she darts past him for the door.

She gulps and curls her hand around the handle, but then stops when she sees who he is in the room with - _her _. Well, not her exactly, some version of her, a dreamKory. Rachel did not warn her she would be in this dream, or that she would look like that, but the black hair does kind of suit her.

Kory pushes the handle down, but the door doesn't open. She yanks it and shoves her shoulder into the door, but it remains locked. "Dick," she calls, pounding her fist on the window, and it doesn't shatter even though she's using all her strength. She has no idea what the rules are inside Dick's head or why she can't get inside, but she senses a timer nearing its end, because the dread in her stomach is screaming now. "Dick, I'm here. I'm right here. Let me in."

* * *

"Kory," Dick starts.

"Shut up," she says, turning away from him, and he waits, and waits. She shakes her head and grips her waist with both hands "You are your own worst enemy."

"What?" He moves closer. "Kory,"

"Does it work, Dick?" Kory asks, and he frowns, his eyes questioning her when she faces him. "Trying to save the world - does it fill that void inside you?"

Dick clamps his mouth shut, and breaks eye contact.

"Saving Rachel didn't, did it?" Her voice is heavy, and pain filled. "Dawn. Hank. Jason. Gar. None of them did."

"What are you talking about?" Dick hisses. "This isn't about them."

"No, it's about you, and this debt you seem to owe the entire world." Kory closes the gap between them. "Bruce thought he could change Gotham but it just ended up changing him instead." She blinks slowly, taking him in. "And you've been so busy trying to outrun him that you couldn't see you were running right to him. I guess there are some things we can't escape."

"This isn't that, I'm not here to confront him or end some grudge. I'm here to make sure no one gets hurt." Dick says. "Bruce and I weren't great for a long time," he purses his lips. "That doesn't change because I'm here,"

"Everything changes because you're here," Kory says. "We aren't yours to fix, Dick. Not Dawn, or Rachel, or Jason. And not Bruce."

"Can we do this later," Dick shifts on his feet, uncomfortable in his skin, and self-conscious like he's naked.

"You were right," Kory walks away, towards the board, eyeing the mugshots. "I did lie to you."

Dick turns his body to her and a wave of an anxiety flushes through him. "When? What did you lie about?"

"Back in my kitchen," Kory breathes out. "about why I ended things between us,"

Dick stills, but his breathing quickens, and he tries to steady it with a deep inhale, twiddling his fingers, and scratching the skin away. "Kory,"

"You deserve to know," She looks across her shoulder at him.

He shrugs. "You were trying to figure out your life. Back then, I," he pauses.

"It wasn't that," Kory walks over to the table and settles on the edge of it. "I mean, it was some of that, but-," she swallows again, and her eyes flit up to his. "Dick, _I love you_. I think I did even before I knew about it."

Dick's heart clenches, leaving him too winded to say anything. He drops his gaze to the floor. He's been dying to hear those words for so long, needing to know if he imagined the whole thing. If wishful thinking embellished what they were to each other, but now he knows, it hurts even more. "Why are you telling me this?"

She rubs at her middle finger, where the ring used to be. "I think I have to."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know what happens next," she says. "I don't know what happens to you or any of us after we leave here, and I wanted you to know. To hear me say it."

"Kory," Dick joins her, perching at the end of the table beside her. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise you, I won't get involved."

"You promised we would go home." Kory smiles. "It's okay," she says when he winces. "it's one of the things I love about you," looking down at her hands with her gaze downcast doesn't hide what he can hear in her voice. "You always want to do the right thing, even if it hurts, even when it costs you." She wipes her nose. "Courage. It's your superpower." She whispers as she looks at him, and he overwhelmed by her. The way she believes in him, has always believed in him, terrifies him, because it gives him the power to let her down. Disappoint her. Fail. "It used to keep me up at night." Kory continues. "Back then. I had this feeling that I was going to lose you." She stands up and turns to him. "Not to some patrol gone wrong, or a stray bullet on duty, or even some super villain or a freak accident." Kory scoffs. "And trust me, I lay awake at night cursing at every one one of those scenarios, too."

Dick rubs his hand over his mouth. He's trying to take it all in while simultaneously trying to brace himself for the impact. "Then what was it?"

"I was afraid I would lose you to your past," Kory confesses.

Dick wants to stop her, and tell her she has everything all wrong, but the voice in his head is telling him different. The voice in his head is telling him being lost was and is always inevitable.

"to all your ghosts and all your pain." She shrugs. "the way Bruce has, I guess." She ties her fingers together. "That one day you would just drift away from me, chasing the next shot at redemption, the newest opportunity to be cleansed from all the things you were too scared to let me see."

"You were afraid of losing me?" Dick scolds. His heart beats unsteadily, and under his skin prickles with the rising heat.

"I'm aware of the irony," Kory sniffles. "giving you up was supposed to be less painful than losing you." She laughs mournfully. "It wasn't. I used to wake up at night, relieved you were still there. Wondering how long you'd stay before your next rescue."

"I would've stayed," Dick ground out, angrily. "If you told me to."

"You're not hearing me," Kory cups his face with both hands. "I felt you drifting away, Dick – not from me. From yourself." And then she lets go.

And Dick filled with the sensation of déjà vu, like he's heard this and been here before. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"It's hard to talk to someone who won't let you in." Kory says.

Dick stands. "And that's why I lost you."

"You didn't really lose me," Kory touches his face. "I'm here in Gotham with you." She reaches for his hand and takes it into hers. "I didn't mean to add to your pain, I just – I didn't know how to live on the outside of your wall."

Dick runs his hands through his hair and steps away from her, facing the door. He is enraged by her, and comforted and relieved, and too many things to name, but she loves him, and he clings to that truth.

"The funny thing is, we were going through the same thing, in a way. Who am I? Who was I? Who do I want to be?" Kory continues.

Questions Dick wasn't sure he would ever find answers to.

"Some days I felt so close to you it was like we were one person, and others were like I was barely scratching the surface."

Dick turns to her. "What did you want from me?"

"I wanted you to talk to me, that's it. That's all of it." Kory says with desperation straining her voice. "You were always keeping your past from me, like what you went through was some dirty secret." She shrugs. "I wanted you to need me a little."

"I did." Dick interjects. "I do, but I-," he clamps down on his jaw. Words become too big to say and feel too small to express how conflicted he's always been about his childhood with Bruce and his guilt over his parents deaths.

Kory was right. He did owe a debt he'd never be able to repay, a debt to Mary and John Grayson, who didn't get a chance to raise their son, or create a life after the circus. They died too young because some twisted intervention, divine or otherwise, had decided his parents didn't deserve to live and left him alive to carry the weight of their absence, as the only proof they ever existed.

His grief became bigger than him, and so did his anger. Tony Zucco was too big, too, for a while, and so he poured himself into training, and fighting, because everything else in his life was bigger and stronger than him. He was powerless and he hated that feeling, so he vowed he'd never feel that way again. Bruce had never been the 'share your feelings' type of guy, though he'd tried, awkwardly, a few times, by then the wall had been built. But Kory, she had an emotional eloquence and intuition he instinctively shied from because he couldn't be sure she'd see him the same if she saw all of him.

"It's OK," Kory sighs.

Dick takes a breath. "You want me to open up?"

"Yes,"

"You want me to lay it all out on the table?"

"Yeah, I do." Kory frowns. "If you want to - if you can."

"It was always there," he blurts, and then steels himself with a deep breath, clenching his fists. "I was – I lost everything all in one night. My parents, my life," Dick's breath quivers. "and I thought Robin was going to fill this hole they left and when it didn't,-" he can't look at her. "when it didn't, I lost control. And I blamed Bruce but-," swallowing, he shifts his weight. "it was already there. All the hate, and the violence and the rage, it was always there. I felt it the moment my parents died. All Bruce gave me was a suit to hide it in."

Kory closes the gap between them. "You're not a bad person because you were in pain." She cries. "You're not a monster because you were angry. You're not bad." She tilts her head into his line of sight.

What he turned his life into fills him with shame and regret, but he didn't know how to be strong, and brave, and being angry felt easier than being broken. He chose vengeance over forgiveness, and he wonders every single day what his parents would think of him for that choice.

"Bruce was the closest thing you had to a father. I know you loved him, but it's time to break this loop." Kory holds his hand. "You don't have to haul him into a jail cell to overcome his shadow. If you want to win. If you want to beat him, forgive him and move on with your life."

Dick looks at her and his nose flares as he battles the surge of emotions rushing up his chest and face. He remembers now, the moment of déjà vu nostalgically lingering in the back of his mind. He and Bruce training with staffs, him being so angry because he couldn't hit Bruce no matter how hard he tried. All Bruce had talked about that day was Anchors, and now he finally understands what it means.

"That's how you win a fight." Kory adds. "You let go. Come home with me."

"You're right," Dick says. "When I was a kid, he told me about anchors. How we could be chained to people and things or be grounded by them." He sighs, remembering Bruce telling him that a man adrift too long could lose himself, and his heart clenches when he realizes the truth; Bruce lost his anchor a long time ago, when Alfred died. "I guess he was right, too."

* * *

Kory stumbles into the room as the door unlocks and comes face to face with Dick and DreamKory, which is eerie and wrong, and stands between them. "Dick, listen to me; this isn't real. None of it. You're in a hallucination Trigon put you in." he looks through her at the other version. "Can you hear me?" She waves her hand in his face, and he doesn't even flinch. "Rachel, I need your help here. I don't know what to do."

Kory startles when all the lights go off and she is hot on Dick's heels when he leaves the room to inquire. "Dick, damn it, look at me."

"Duane," Dick calls, approaching the officer's desk. "a power outage?"

"Looks like," Duane flashes his flashlight on Dick's face, and he jerks his head back. "Connor is checking it out now, but it should automatically reboot in a-," the light flickers back on and Duane flicks off his flashlight. "second."

Dick nods and returns to the room. "It was a false-," he looks over his shoulder, searching for DreamKory when they find the room empty.

"The blueprints," he walks over to the table, and then he pats down his pockets for his car keys. "Damn it, Kory."

* * *

NOTES:


	11. Chapter 11 - Gar

Summary: Gar makes a startling discovery and Rachel makes a risky choice to help her friends.

Notes: I love writing for and being inside Gar's head. That is all. Please enjoy!

* * *

Gar leans over Angela while she leans over the smoking skillet. "You need any help?" he glances over his shoulder at Rachel and back. It's almost impossible to burn a grilled cheese sandwich, but he watches as the corners turn black. It's her second attempt.

The cheese was cut too small the last time and now they're the size of bricks, and he knows the bread will turn to ash before if has a chance to melt. "Or we could order pizza. Dick always get us – pizza – because – mostly," he breathes in. She's giving him the death glare. "we live in motels."

"I think there's ketchup and mustard in the cupboard." Angela says, shoving the fork around the corners of the sandwich, trying to get it unstuck. "Stay away from the pantry."

Gar grimaces at the thought. He's sure everything in those cupboards are dust now or living, breathing creatures. Either way, he won't be having ketchup – or anything served by Angela after last time.

He goes over to the cupboard anyway, to humor her and throws a glance into the living room at Rachel. She is clutching the arm of the chair and tearing it apart, and he wants to do something, anything, but he is conflicted. The man in the white coat flashes behind his eyelids every time he blinks, and the other him, the animal, seems to fade farther away.

His stomach churns violently, at the thought of all that blood, the metal taste still lingering, and feeling raw flesh between his teeth. Shuddering, he stumbles back into Angela as she's turning with the skillet and it flips over, tossing the sandwich to the ground. He bares his teeth at her, a 'sorry' and then steps away, slowly, while she glowers at him. "I'll just-,"

"Sit down,"

"That." Gar nods. Settling at the table, he swallows, watching Angela collect the book sized sandwich to dump in the bin. His eyes wander over to the kitchen door and he notices a key dangling from a nail beside it, "mm," he hums when he sees a mouse run towards the cat flap before detouring for an easier escape. "You had a cat?"

"Yes," Angela chops the cheese, again, into thick slices. "It died."

"Or you killed it." Gar mutters to himself.

Angela turns her head toward him. "What?"

"I said, R.I.P." He flashes a grin, flinching as she aggressively chops slices of cheese from the block. "You should probably grate that," stealing a quick glance at Rachel again, he grimaces because he should be helping her instead of just sitting around hoping everything works out.

It makes him sick to think about what he did, but he wills the tiger to him anyway, ignoring its resistance. "Come on," he cries under his breath. It feels so far away from him, he worries he may never able to reach it again, but weighing his choices only makes it glaringly obvious he has none.

All he has to do is distract Angela a little longer. Except Angela spent some time in an asylum pretending to be crazy, which is super crazy of her, and now it turns out she is actually crazy because she had a baby with a thing, which is as far out there as a person can go. He's terrified of her and he hasn't felt this kind of fear since his first turn.

Gar picks at the frayed denim of his jeans. "So, Angela-,"

"Be quiet,"

"Yep." He sighs.

Gar goads the tiger, wills and demands it come, but all he hears is silence. And he feels nothing, like he's alone, for the first time in long while, really alone. He's never wished for different powers, sure there was an adjustment period but he never wanted anything different. He loved being a tiger. He felt powerful and strong, unstoppable.

But right now, he is wishing for something else, anything else; super speed like The Flash, so he can run out of there with Dick and Rachel in between Angela blinking, or the power of Superman, or Wonder Girl – even Dick who didn't have powers but was a super bad ass anyway would know what to do. He wouldn't just sit there, he didn't, and now look at him.

Up until now he's tried his hardest not to look at Dick. The man he'd started to look up to, and had grown to trust (before he knew he was Robin, though of course, so cool). It was his willingness to take in a stranger with green hair because he couldn't stay with the Chief anymore and protect him, and come after he and Rachel with Kory when they were in trouble. So, if this is the last time, he and Dick are together, in the same room, he refuses to remember him helpless.

He pulls his hands into his sleeves and holds them out in front of him, picking his fingernails. "Is Dick going to die?"

"No," Angela drops a plate in front of him. The cheese is stiff and only partly melted and the bread is black. "Eat."

And his time is up. Angela's flipping Rachel's sandwich onto a plate and when she takes it to her, she'll see how close Rachel is to bottoming out and stop her from helping Kory help Dick. They'll be stuck in this house forever, or at least until Rachel's well dressed, super evil dad is done with them. This can't happen. This can't happen. This can't happ-

"Whoa." Gar slinks back into the chair as a sensation of whirling and loss of balance washes over him. He flexes his shoulders and stares at the sandwich, he hasn't even taken a bite and already he feels strange.

Pushing his fingers against his chest, he feels his heart thumping, and his body collapsing into itself. An overwhelming, tingling sensation shoots through him, and he falls to the floor, shuddering with his eyes squeezed shut.

"What the hell?" Angela says.

Her voice is so loud it vibrates through his entire body, and he tries to block his ears, but. No hands. No hands?

No hands?!

Gar opens his eyes and gulps. Angela is a freaking giant standing feet away from him with her hands on her hips.

"Where'd he go?" She spits.

He could chalk this up to another hallucination because he hasn't been short of those today, but it feels real, it feels super real and weird, definitely weird. Then Rachel rushes into the kitchen and she's a giant too, and so is the table. He looks around, and the shoes tucked by island are big, the onion that rolled off the counter earlier while Angela was empyting her basket is big, everything is huge. This can't be good.

"Um." Gar scurries between Rachel's legs into the living room, looking for anything with a reflective surface and catches a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror. "Oh my, God, I'm a -. OH MY GOD. I'M A MOUSE. AM I MOUSE?" Looking around the room, at the large sofas, and miles and miles of wall.

His breath quickens and he feels his tiny chest pumping up and down, and he needs a paper bag, but he realizes he would be too small for it, and HOW IS THIS USEFUL? "Um, er," he looks up as Rachel comes into the living room. "Rachel!"

Rachel's eyes dart around the room and then she spots him. Her eyes bulge when they land, but he doesn't care, he's too relieved she can see him. She holds her finger to her lips to shush him and gathers up his clothes.

Gar scuttles behind Dick's shoe as Angela comes in behind Rachel and waits.

"He can't have just disappeared," Angela says, her voice strained and desperate. "I thought he could only turn into a tiger." She says, venomously.

"I could help you look," Rachel offers.

"No, you sit down. I'll find him."

Rachel nods and dumps his clothes by the side of the sofa. She sits down and watches Angela leave, and then she waves him over, and he darts across the room, diving into the pile of clothes. "Rachel,"

"Gar? How?" She leans in closer to him.

"I don't know." Gar swallows. "Wait. How'd you know it was me?"

Rachel raises her eyebrow at him. "You're still green."

"Oh. Yeah. Right." Gar groans inwardly, in all the creatures he could've turned into, he transformed into a mouse. "I think I'm freaking out. Yeah. I'm freaked out. I don't know how or why, I mean, what if I am stuck like this now?"

"There must a reason you turned into a mouse, right?" Rachel whispers. "Focus. Think."

"Uh, erm, I can't rememb-," Gar dives into his shoe to peek at Angela, and wow, not so sure that was a clever idea, but blinks away the burn tearing up his eyes and narrows his focus on the kitchen door. "The cat flap," He says. "I could make a run for it. Find Kory and Wonder girl."

"I lost her." Rachel cries. "Kory. She slipped away from me."

"Well, can you get her back?"

"I don't know."

"Rachel, maybe you need a little help this time?" he wishes he could hold her hand and reassure her, but all he has is these whiskers. "I don't know how long this'll last, but, wish me luck."

"Good luck." Rachel reaches down and strokes his head. "Please, be careful." And then she stands up. "Mom. I think I saw something."

"Where?" Angela comes rushing in and Gar sprints behind the piano, sneaking up the other side of it to peep around the bend of the wall into the kitchen.

He takes one last look at Angela as she kneels to look under the sofa while Rachel stands over her and makes a run for the cat flap. He isn't sure how he'll make the little jump up and out but he's going to take advantage of this momentum.

He's no hero like Robin or Wonder Girl, and he's no badass like Kory, but maybe if he does this, if he escapes, and gets to them. Saves the day. Maybe, he'll prove his worth and they'll see they didn't make a mistake taking him in, that he does bring something to the team even when he can't reach the beast.

He dashes across the kitchen floor, under the table, and sees the cat flap.

"Gar," Rachel screams.

Gar screeches to a stop as a broom comes down in front of the door. He looks up at Angela, who is even more terrifying at this size. "There you are." She smiles.

"Oh, shit," he runs under the kitchen table as she dives for him and scurries back the way he came as she bumps her head and stumbles back. He can feel his tiny beating heart and his entire body has dry mouth, in sensory overload he takes a rest behind the piano. Panting hard.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Angela says, deadpan.

"Be something else," Gar coaxes. "anything else," he creeps out the other side, back towards Trigon and Dick and stands beside those shiny shoes watching her fasten each window and secure the doors. Moving from the shoes, to the skirt of the sofa, he finds his way back to Rachel's side, and she lifts him and holds him by her leg. "Rachel, don't talk, just listen." he starts. "What if she is the only way to get them back?"

"What if I lose control?" Rachel whispers.

"Maybe that's the problem, you're so scared you won't be able to control her that none of you have it. What if you share control? Let go and let her all the way in. Stop rejecting her and maybe she'll stop trying to take you over. You can work together."

Rachel nods slowly.

"OK. Good." Gar squeaks. "Now let me down so I can taunt your mom."

"Gladly." Rachel lowers him.

Gar scuttles across the floor and stands by the front door. "Yo, Angela," he calls. "Over here,"

Angela comes storming towards him, but her eyes flicker everywhere but at him.

"Left," Gar sings. "A little to the right. That's it. Now down." And her eyes find him. "There you go." He shifts left as she reaches for him, and then right as she follows and heads for the stairs, realizing how little he'd thought this plan out. These stairs which he intends to climb require ab work and he can't feel any.

He leaps anyway and lands on the first one, and the second, but it is not easy being this small. He wonders why he couldn't turn into something more thrilling, threatening, more useful than a mouse, after all, the cat flap was not made for a thing so small, but the thing that made play out torturing a thing so small. At least he can be relieved about that not being a problem, thanks to Angela.

He leaps again, but it feels easier, and he feels stronger this time. There's a spring in his jump as he launches up, flying through the air and landing strong on his feet, onto the landing, in perfect balance. He mewls and stretches his rough tongue along his paw before scraping it back over his face. "Can't say I've always wanted to do that."

A cat. Guess that's a step up. An upgrade. He's grateful for the change because he'd started to imagine a nightmare scenario being stuck as mouse forever while Rachel, Kory and Dick took turns feeding him and cleaning tiny poops out of his cage. Eurgh.

It feels like the entire house is threatening to come down as it trembles and shakes under Angela's feet as she shuffles up the last of the stairs.

"Here, little kitty," Angela sings as she steps onto the landing. "You can't keep this up."

Gar leaps into the spare bedroom he slept in earlier and launches off his back feet onto the windowsill. It's ajar but he wriggles and bends his body through, slipping out onto the roof before she can grab his tail. He turns back and she is lifting the window open. "I can probably keep this up longer than you."

He teeters on the edge of the roof, one paw in the drain pipe, calculating his jump and escape route, while simultaneously keeping an eye on Angela. "Ahh," he screams as his body stretches and he dangles on the edge, swinging his arms back to keep balance. Not now.

"Cats may have nine lives, but I'm guessing you don't." Angela smirks.

And the drain gives way, and Gar spins, going over the edge.

* * *

All this time Rachel has been fighting the darkness inside of her and now it feels like the only thing she has left, but it won't come, no matter how much she calls, almost as though the other her is offended. "Come on," She stands, and dips her head, taking a deep breath in and breathes out, but nothing happens, or changes.

Angela comes skipping down the stairs. "The two of you think you're playing me," she smiles. "But your friend just fell out the window."

"What?" Rachel cries.

"Yeah," Angela sighs. "I wouldn't worry though, I'm sure he landed on his feet." Crossing the room, she heads for the kitchen door. "I just hope I don't crush him, I mean, he could be anything and it's dark out there."

"Don't hurt him," Rachel's eyes well up. "Please."

"I would never," Angela opens the door. "He's too important."

Rachel follows behind her, standing on the other side of the kitchen's island. "What do you mean?"

Angela's face still. "Nothing, honey. Your father and I just want to make sure your special friend doesn't get hurt, that's all. Now be a good girl, wait here and keep an eye on your other special friend." She dashes out of the door and it flaps shut.

"Gar," Rachel cries. Her heart squeezes in her chest at the thought of Angela, or her father hurting Gar, and it all comes rushing back. The voice that is always at the back of her mind, whispering, and taunting, is now screaming. "You win." The vengeful thing inside her rushes to the surface, from her feet, like black fire filling her veins, and she throws her head back, letting it all in.

* * *

Gar lands on all fours. Turns out if he was a cat upon landing then those nine lives were undoubtedly his. He's feeling pretty cool about that. Skipping along the side of the house, he crosses the front to crouch behind some plants, beyond the large tree in front of the porch. A golden shimmer dances, and flickers, like some kind of shield, but between those flickers he catches a glimpse of Kory and Wonder girl on the ground. "Kory," he yells.

Darting towards the tree, he glances over his shoulder checking for Angela, but all he sees is black sky, thorny trees and shadows.

He takes a deep breath and steps out, watching the shimmer and he leans back on his back legs ready to sprint forward when he feels himself coming off the ground, dangling in the air, and then Angela's face comes into view.

"Green cat," Angela smirks. "Conspicuous, even in the dark." She walks back around the house. "Did I tell you I'm a cat person?" and slips in through the back door, sighing triumphantly. Crisis averted.

A gust of wind throws her against the kitchen sink and the doors blow open.

Gar falls to his feet and stretches himself out, morphing back into his human form. He stares down at his hands, turning them over and then makes a fist. He's back.

Slowly, Gar moves around Rachel who isn't quite herself anymore, as she stands in opening of the kitchen, her eyes inky black, and her face veiny and pale. He climbs into his jeans and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

Angela rights herself, and cautiously pushes off the sink. "Rachel, baby?"

Rachel wags her finger slowly, tilting her head at the woman in front of them. "You hurt our friend."

"He made me," Angela cries. "Your father," she moves closer, slowly, step by step. "I was tortured and threatened and locked away until I finally gave into him. I've been forced to do his bidding, to ensure his return, but I didn't want to, all I wanted was my little girl back." Holding her arms out, she smiles, softly. "Please."

Rachel pulls her pale lips into a smirk. "What happened to your friend, Angela? Sheriff Carson. Tommy, you called him."

Angela shakes her head, grunts, clenching her fists. "He went to get help for Gar, but he never came back."

Rachel's smile widens. "You can't hide anything from me. You can't keep me out." She sings, "I'm in your heaaad."

"You're reading her mind right now?" Gar asks.

Rachel giggles. "Your lies are as see through as your skin." She turns to Gar. "He's in the pantry."

Gar's skin twitches. "What?"

"Mommy is stronger than she looks," Rachel teases. "Aren't you, mommy?" she flicks her wrist and the pantry door creaks, slow at first and then swings open, hitting the wall as the County Sheriff tumbles out and slumps to the floor.

Gar jumps back behind Rachel. He thinks he might have screamed, but he can't be sure.

"Are you going to hurt me?" Angela stiffens. "Your own mother, to protect some boy you've only known five minutes?"

"Compared to how long we've known you?" Rachel growls, and then she opens her mouth and an oozy, black substance rushes from her throat into the air, impervious to gravity. It dances towards Angela, curling and whipping through the air and forms a circle around her.

"None of this will matter, not in the end." Angela says, eyeing the black mass surrounding her. "Rachel, stop it. You hear me?"

"Stay still," Rachel warns. "I wouldn't want to crush you by accident."

Rachel spreads her arms and leans her head back, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "Kory," her voice rustles. "This is going to feel –" She smiles, " _different_," and then closes her eyes.

Gar swallows, and steps in front of her. "Rachel?" when she doesn't respond, he waves his hand in front of her. She growls, and he flinches back, "heh," he laughs, nervously.

Turning back to Angela, who is being perfectly still, Gar smiles wide, and shrugs. "Pretty cool, right?"

* * *

NOTES: The end is nigh. Dick has to face his enemy, and Kory has to find a way to get herself and Dick out of Trigon's nightmare.


	12. Chapter 12 - Little Broken Robin

A/N: just a boy, a man, and their bird.

Summary: Dick comes face to face with his true enemy, Donna notices a crack in Trigon's armor and Kory scrambles to find a way out of Dick's nightmare.

Thanks so much for the review, anon. It means so much. I plan to write more Titan stories, and in fact am writing a sequel to this one. But yes, I may write a one-shot of injured Dick hiding pain, if I can find the time. Absolutely. :)

* * *

Dick slams the peddle to the floor, weaving in and out, between cars as they honk their horns and skid their vehicles out of his way. He'd jimmied the first police car he'd seen outside the precinct and didn't think twice about it, the only thing he was thinking about was Kory.

He glances down at his phone, on speaker as Kory's phone rings incessantly. "Damn it, Kory, pick up." Shifting gears, he speeds through a red light, avoiding a delivery truck clipping him by inches, but he doesn't slow down, he can't. "Kory," he cries when she finally answers. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your old man."

"You stole my car."

"Couldn't resist," she teases. "Where are you?"

"Ten minutes out," Dick sighs. "What do you mean, _saving my old man_?"

"I don't trust Finney," Kory confesses. "he wants blood. It was too risky telling you my plan to give them the slip back at the station, with those all eyes and ears trained on you now they know you're Robin. So, I stole your car."

Dick scoffs. "It'd have been suspicious if we left together, less so if I was coming to find you." He deduces.

"By the time Finney realizes you haven't come back, we'll have Bruce in custody. Alive."

Dick's shoulders shrink back. "Did you have to steal my car?"

"Just hurry up, I'm almost there." Kory warns.

Dick tightens his grip on the wheel. Their conversation in the interview room is still running laps in his head, and once they get wrapped up in bringing Bruce in, he doesn't know when they'll get another chance to address it, if ever. "Kory," his voice is almost inaudible. "about earlier," he swallows hard. "I don't know what comes next – how we navigate _us_ now, but – I do need you."

"I know, that's why I'm here." Kory says after a long pause. "But right now, we need to focus on bringing Bruce in and getting you back to your family."

Dick feels his heart sinking into his stomach. "We're family too – you, Rachel, Gar and me." When she falls silent, he feels his throat dry up. "Kory?"

"I'm still here." She says.

"We have a lot to figure out," Dick says. "_I_ have a lot to figure out. I need to make things right." Glancing down at his phone, he sighs, wishing he was saying this face to face. "Do you ever wish we could go back – you know, back to the beginning, when we took Gar in and had Rachel at the safe house, maybe do things differently?"

"Maybe." Kory clears her throat, dropping the weight from her voice. "What would you change?"

"Everything," Dick says. If he had a do-over, he never would've left them in the first place. He hears the heavy gates of Wayne Manor creaking open. "Wait, how'd you-,"

"I spied the code when we arrived earlier," Kory says, and the engine dies. "Are you close?"

"Five minutes," Dick clenches his jaw. "Wait for me." There is something in the pit of his stomach twisting it into a pretzel.

"I would," Kory sings. "Except, I see him."

"What?" Dick growls. "Alright, I'm a few minutes away, don't engage,"

"Don't worry about me," Kory says. "I'm a big girl."

"Don't underestimate him, Kory," Dick warns. "The man put a fucking tracker in my arm. He probably knows more about you than you do."

"Doesn't mean he's expecting me. You're the one he's expecting. This is all about you. Always has been." Kory explains. "Now if you hurry up, you can cuff him."

"Kory,"

"Shit," Kory whispers. "He made me. And now he's fleeing." Her breath grows ragged over the phone as she gives chase, calling after Bruce and demanding he stay where he is. "Dick, get your ass here now."

"Kory, it's a trap, he's leadi-," the line goes dead and Dick's heart stops for several seconds.

As he pulls up outside the gates, he finds the Porsche abandoned on the curb with the driver's door wide open. Slamming his foot on the gas, he eats up the gravel in seconds and skids to a stop on the doorstep of the mansion.

He steps out of the police car and looks around, casing his immediate surroundings. Pulling his gun from the back of his trousers, he drops the magazine into his palm, checking the clip is fully loaded before slamming it back in with the heel of his hand.

Dick skips up the steps and darts into the house after Kory.

* * *

Donna stretches her mouth from side to side, blowing raspberries into the air. Both her arms frame Kory as she holds her against her lap. She's been turning, mumbling and clenching, and Donna contemplates squeezing her hand, but stops herself, because boundaries.

They only met today although it already feels like a week and a half, and she is wearing her clothes, because _no_ boundaries, plus, she can hear her heart is dangerously elevated and matching Dick's. Donna decides to take her hand, because fuck it.

She huffs. She has done way more waiting than she's used to. Her eyes wander over the shimmer and she waits for it to do its bubbling thing, but this time it doesn't, and she stills to examine it further. "Huh," she moves her hair behind her ear and then gently shifts Kory off her lap, laying her down in the grass, before climbing to her feet to cross the short distance between them and it.

It's barely moving now, and almost all its gleam is gone. Only hints of it remain, like the electric energy she feels radiating from it, pulling at the hairs on her body, and the quiet buzzing it makes, like a hive of bees are nearby. But it does not shine the way it did an hour ago. Slowly, she reaches out with one eye open, and touches it, but her hand is zapped away. "Still charged I see,"

Donna turns back to Kory. "I think you and Rachel are giving this Trigon asshole some wonderful side effects." She walks back and sits on her knees, grunting as she drags Kory back onto her lap. "Whatever you're doing. Keep doing it." The shimmer was weakening, and to her, that had to mean Trigon was being weakened too. Now all she had to do was wait a little longer, hoping that when Kory woke up, Dick would be in tow.

She guides Kory's curls away from her face. "You're doing it, Kory." Pulling her hand through her sleeve, she dabs away the sweat on Kory's forehead. "Bring him back to us."

* * *

Kory slips inside the house. She and Rachel can feel Dick is close as she enters the foyer. Thinking she hears him, she calls out, and a light draft crawls along her bare arms in response. She follows it into a large living room. It's elegant with dark walls, marble tops, dalbergia wood furniture and tall golden frames. A majestic, full-length clock stands up against the wall beside a shiny piano.

The family posing in the tall frames, she assumes is Bruce and his parents but notes pictures on the mantle above the fire place are of he and Dick. She deduces that Bruce probably hasn't changed a thing since his parents died.

Taking a second look at the clock as it ticks out of sync, she wonders if it stands on uneven floor boarding as it seems to slant towards her, but as she closes in, the draft picks up and runs through her.

There, she discovers an opening and looks down the long, poorly lit tunnel before stepping in. It looks like miles of leaky pipe, grubby water and mice droppings, but she feels Dick at the end of it, pulling her towards him.

* * *

Dick hurries into the cave panting, and glances around for any sign of Kory. He whispers her name, flaring his nose as it catches the scent of burning leather. But the room is ice cold. "Kory," his voice breaks with desperation. "Kory are you here-," a lump rises in his throat when he sees her laying on the ground, and he skids to his knees in front of her, lifting her against him. "hey," leaning in close, he taps her face gently to rouse her.

Her eyes are closed, and he lays his hand on her cheek. Her skin is icy and her hair is damp, and she's so still, he can't breathe. He feels something inside him give way, and then he spots the cold gun at her feet, and Bruce's foot at the bend where the room ends, and another begins. This is all his fault. Kory _never_ should have been in Gotham,_ he_ never should have been in Gotham.

Dick moves away from her body and climbs to his feet.

Rage swells inside his chest at the sight of Bruce as he turns, stirring awake. Half of his suit is melted away, along with the right side of his face. "You killed her," he forces out. Standing over Bruce, he leans in and slips his hand in the neck of his Batsuit, lifting him up half way and punching him back down.

"I'm sorry," Bruce says, his voice raw and broken. And he climbs onto his knees.

Dick kicks him in the chest, following the old man as he rolls and then tries to lift himself up again. "Fight back," he lifts him onto his feet and shoves him into the wall, punching him in the stomach, and then elbowing him in the back when he lurches over, winded. "Fight back."

"I'm sorry, son." Bruce places his hand over Dick's when he grabs him by the scruff.

"Kill him."

Dick snaps his head over his shoulder and finds _himself_ standing there, at thirteen, his eyes dark and full of vengeance, and his fists clenched.

"Go on." The boy says. "Kill him."

Dick lets Bruce fall to the floor and stumbles back. Tears stinging at the back of his eyes as the boy demands he end it. "I can't."

"I said finish it." The boy screams.

"I'm sorry," Bruce gurgles. "for all of it."

Dick looks down at him and his heart seizes in his chest – because it _isn't_ Bruce anymore - at his feet, choking up blood. It isn't Bruce struggling to breathe or speak, apologizing.

It's him. It's Robin. In the suit, half-dead. "I wasn't enough."

"I don't understand," Dick tears himself away from Robin to look at the boy.

"You can end this," the boy cries. "all of this. He's the reason we can't forget. It's his fault we're like this. Get rid of him so everything can go back to the way it was."

Dick blinks away the tears and falls to his knees, winded by the sight of Robin. Him. "I can't."

He's lost, and without Robin, he doesn't know if he'll ever find his way out of this pain. He'd clung to his anger for so long, and so stubbornly, because he knew deep down, once it was gone, he would be forced to deal with the pain of losing his parents.

He thought if he laid the blame at Bruce's feet, it would be easier to carry, but it only made everything heavier. He has been Robin half his life and now he isn't – and what's a bird without its wings?

"M'sorry," Robin wheezes, with blood on his lower lip. "I wasn't enough. I was never going to be enough."

"Please," the boy kneels in front of Dick. "Do it for me."

Dick looks at the boy, and then Robin. Then he clenches his fist, lifting Robin off the wall, and roars as he slams his fist into his chest.

* * *

Kory approaches the end of the tunnel and enters the blue cave, but what she finds is no lair. Bright lights flash. Soft, mischievous music plays and animals, large and ferocious pass her by, casually. They're back at the circus, in the tent. The tent The Flying Grayons flew for the last time in. "Dick," she calls, when she finds him sitting, facing the ladder with his back turned away from her.

He rocks himself back and forth. "I killed them."

Kory scours the room, glancing over empty seats, popcorn and candy littered floors, and then up at the swinging bars overhead. There is no one there, it' just the two of them. She walks over to him and sits in the dirt, on her knees beside him, gently, and hesitantly placing her hand on his shoulder. "Dick."

He stills. Stops rocking, stops talking, but he doesn't look up at her. "I killed them."

Kory looks around. "No one's here. No one's dead." She stares at his fists as he stares at them, and then takes them into her hands, but she sees nothing on them. "You haven't killed anyone."

"It's all my fault. I let them fall." He cries. "I let them fall."

Kory swallows and shifts herself a little closer. "Can I tell you something?"

He turns to her, his face streaming with tears and dripping on his acrobat suit. It's old and worn, fraying at the seams and pale in color. "It's not too late," Kory says. "you still have a chance to start over. You have people who care about you, Dick. But you have to stop holding yourself hostage to the past. You have to find a way to let it go."

"I can't," he growls.

"No of course not," Kory says. "Not on your own. No one manages alone."

Dick looks up at her and narrows his eyes on her, studying her face and hands, and something clicks. "Kory?"

Kory nods and her face splits into a smile when his eyes clear on her, this is the Dick she knows. "Hi." she breezes out.

Dick looks down at his hands, turns them over and then looks at Kory. "You were - Bruce, he," he swallows. "You're here."

"Yeah, Dick," Kory nods, glancing down at his clothes, returned to normal. "I'm here."

* * *

Kory's lips are moving but he can't make out the words or hear her voice among the fog descending over him. Looking around, he searches for evidence Bruce was there, that Robin, and his younger self was there – and Kory. But the room is bare, and all he can reach is Kory's last words 'you'll have a chance to start over' because those are words he recognizes.

Dick closes his eyes and draws on the memory of his mother and the bed time story she once told him about the little Robin, a storm-cloud bird, that the god of thunder, Thor, believed was the most sacred.

He remembers becoming fascinated with Norse mythology and watching birds closely after that, until he finally caught a Robin and brought it home. That day, his mother taught him a valuable lesson about the importance of freedom and encouraged him to let it go.

"Don't be fooled by its size," his mother had said. "the Robin is a divine creature. He represents so many wonderful things, but the thing to remember is that he symbolizes renewal and letting go of things passed to make room for things to come. The Robin is a beautiful bird, not because he sings, but because he brings hope and luck, and second chances."

She told him tales about his adventures as a small child, so carefree and brave, running before he could walk, climbing before he could run, and singing before he could talk, because he believed he could do anything, and he didn't wait to be shown. And she told him it was true, that he _could_ do anything. All he had to do is flap those big, carefree wings of his and he could go anywhere and be anything, because like a bird, he was destined to take flight.

His father told him some people were doomed to live their lives with their boots firmly planted to the ground, but they were not those people, they were the flying Graysons. They knew freedom, every night when they flew, slicing through the air during a performance.

Somewhere along the line Dick had lost all those lessons and all those warm memories to a mask, to Robin, and rather than trying to hold onto them, hold on to his parents, he allowed the pain of losing them turn them into ghosts. Ghosts that haunted him with their hopes and dreams, and unfinished lives, spreading coldness through his bones, numbing him until he began to wonder if he, too, was a ghost.

"Dick," her voice comes through the noise and pulls him out of his painful thread of regrets, and he looks at her, for the first time he looks right into her.

"I'm sorry." Dick mumbles.

"No. Don't be." Kory grips his shoulders. "You have to listen to me carefully," she scans the room, glancing up at the ceiling as the whirring sound of a helicopter comes into focus. "None of this real. OK? It's Trigon. He's gotten inside your head."

Dick struggles to make sense of her words. "We defeated him. He's-,"

"Dick," Kory injects. "He has Rachel and Gar. We have to get out of this dream."

"This is my life-,"

"Rachel brought me to you." Kory cries, framing his face with both her hands. "I'm not a dream. This is. This is the dream. Trigon is messing with your head."

Dick shakes his head. "But Bruce, and Dawn – Johnny. You and me."

Sirens wail in the background and the whipping of the helicopter draws closer. Kory stands up and holds out her hand. "We have to go."

"I can't tell," Dick chokes out. "This feels real. How can I tell?"

"You trust me," Kory growls with desperation. "and you get your ass up off the floor."

Dick watches her hand, and her bright, curly hair and her eyes – and she comes back to him like a lighthouse in the dark. This is the Kory he knows. He takes her hand and stands to his feet, finding out he can barely hold himself up as he stumbles into her arms. Kory pulls him against her, and he wraps his arm around her shoulder, trying not to lean all his weight into her as she pulls him out the cave and through the tunnel. Leaving the circus behind.

"I've got you." Kory's grip tightens on his side as he slips, weak and dragging his feet. It feels like an eternity stumbling through the dank, narrow tube.

He contemplates the implications of this being a dream and his first thought goes to Hank. Hank could be alive, and the hope that's true lifts his feet a little higher, and they move a little faster because of it.

When they arrive at the end, voices are abuzz on the outside, desperate and angry as they pass instructions back and forth. The sirens are deafening now and as Kory pulls him into the long hallway, a black cylinder the size of a brick crashes through the window, one after another follows until they are surrounded by smoke, forcing them to move.

"Tear gas," Dick chokes, holding lapel of his jacket to his face.

Kory adjust him against her hip, and they move away from the climbing fog. "Garage?" she asks.

"In the smoke,"

The door bangs, and the men holler. They are coming in, and he knows they don't have time to circle round to the garage. He digs his heel in and pulls her to a stop. "Elevator," he says, and Kory narrows her eyes because all she sees is wall, until the doors open. "Voice activated."

The front door rams through and shadows pile in, shouting commands and pointing guns, their red lasers glowing through the smoke.

They slip into the elevator and Kory pushes all the buttons as their voices near over the comms. They still as bodies pass them in the smoke and the doors silently slide shut. Breathing out in sync, they share a look, and he leans against the doors.

"The roof," Dick says. "You have a ship. You can fly the Wayne helicopter."

Kory's eyes bulge. "Doesn't mean I remember how to fly it."

"You'll be okay," he steps back and the doors open. Kory moves to him. "I'm fine. I promise." He follows her through the short transparent hall onto the landing pad of the roof, and Kory pushes the fire door open. "Shit." He growls when they find it bare.

His head is pounding something awful and he can hear Kory's desperation, but the loud whirring of the helicopter as it emerges from the east of the building, drowns everything out, and he knows the pilot is radioing Finney their whereabouts. "We have about a minute and a half," Dick looks back at the exit door as Kory breaks the handle off.

"I hear water," she moves to the edge of the roof. "The river."

"You want to jump?" Dick edges closer and sets his sights on the water rushing ahead. He's overcome with a familiar sense of inevitably, an intuition even before he arrived in Gotham that he would be submerged in something he wouldn't be able to escape, drowning beneath its waves and now it was here. This felt real. He didn't know if this Kory, or this world was real, but this river felt like fate.

Kory turns to him. "on Tamaran, we worship water because of its healing properties, but more than that," she glances over at the water. "we believe it's an multidimensional gate allowing travel to and from a multitude of other worlds, a portal to other dimensions, alternate realities, parallel universes."

"You think the water is a door back to reality,"

"Yeah," Kory shrugs. "or just enough of a knee-jerk reaction to wake us up."

The door begins to tremble as its attacked from the other side. Red and blue lights flash over the property, while the helicopter hovers, pouring its obnoxious lights over them. This is it, they're out of options.

"Kory-,"

"Not here. Whatever you want to say, you can tell me in the real world." She cups his face. "If I'm right, we'll never hit the water." She promises, taking his hand and gently pulling him towards the roof's edge. "We won't feel a thing."

He goes with her, closing his fingers around hers. His heart isn't racing or beating hard inside his chest, and his breath isn't caught in his throat. He's in a state of calm because somehow, he knows this isn't it. This isn't the end.

Dick pulls Kory into him, crashing his mouth against hers and cupping the back of her neck. It's long, tender and true.

And then the edge finds them, and they fly.

* * *

NOTES: Titans Season 1 Finale: Remixed! Are you ready?


	13. Chapter 13 - Dick Grayson

**A/N:** I am so grateful to all of you who took this ride with me and encouraged me with wonderful reviews, faves and follows. I'm super happy with this story and the way it turned out, so I hope you all enjoy it too.

**Summary:** Dick is awake, but coming back won't be easy or pain free. Perhaps though, it will be worth it. Meanwhile, one of the heroes will have to make a sacrifice. (No character Deaths! Promise. But my version of a cliffhanger)

* * *

Flash.

Flashes.

Flashing.

Images of Bruce, of Kory, and himself rush by, behind his dry, sticky eyelids. He can barely keep up as light, sound, and heat invade his body at once, while broken pieces of information filter through.

He's running in the dark, trying to find his way back, but the space is so boundless, and his time in it, infinite, he could be running in circles and wouldn't know. It's the sound of the kids voices that draws him, like the gentle alarm of morning birds singing their morning song, increasing in volume and urgency until…

"Dick?" a voice echoes in the abyss.

Dick opens his eyes, but all he sees is fire, and shoots forward, choking back a sob. "Kory," his stomach coils tight and he holds himself together, barely any strength left in his arms as he does so. Every muscle in his body feels atrophied, as though they haven't been used in months.

His mind is a kaleidoscope of splintered memories and cells, and his nerves clump together in a fist, sending electric; hot and raw, firing through and beneath his clammy, paper thinned skin. It hurts all over, but he needs to see her. "Kory."

"I don't know," Gar's voice becomes clear, laced thick with panic. "Dick – are you okay? Please answer me."

But Dick's tongue is heavy in his jaw and his throat is a dry desert, sore and cracked by hot, broken rocks that sink to his chest every time he swallows. Tears burn at the corner of his eyes, sitting on his lashes when he blinks, and he wipes at his face as he sniffles. "Where is she?" he forces out with sand dust in his throat.

"Dick," Rachel cries. "are you really back?"

Pressing sweaty palms to his ears, he closes his eyes until their voices become muffled hums and wills her to him. Her voice returns to him first, and then her touch, and finally her face. Then the rest, but it all comes at unforgiving speed: Gotham, Dawn, the kid, Hank's death, Bruce – and Kory. Both Korys. Finney comes back too, and Duane – and he remembers Kory breaking his heart – him breaking hers. None of it is real, and yet it is to him. The ache breaks skin, worming into his chest between muscle and bone, shooting straight for the heart.

His breath is ragged and choked now. His bones are crushed inside his skin, made to fit, but it's too tight and twisted, and it aches far and deep. And he can't reach. And he can't escape.

"Breathe," Gar cries. "Please,"

Hands touch his shoulders as he hunches over in pain, but the pressure is too much and he winces, flinching away.

"It's Gar," his voice screeches, and cuts out. "we held on as long as we could,"

Dick finally turns to the teenager and swallows thickly. Among the flames is all neon green and horror and fear, and all he wants to do is reassure the boy, touch him, but he can't find a foothold in this place, this world. Reality dangles in front of him, teasing, floating on the surface of his brain, slowly breaking through the fog, but the two worlds remain spliced together, the one he escaped holding on stubbornly.

"What's wrong with him?" Rachel asks. "What did you do to him?"

"Me?" Finney – Trigon says. "You're the one who sent the alien in there, maybe she broke something."

"She wouldn't," Rachel argues.

Gar takes his hand and squeezes, and the tiny bones spread under the comfort. He watches the boy, studies him, feels the cool of his skin – but he isn't sure. He can't be sure. "Gar?" He blinks away the stars and turns again, finding Rachel this time, a few feet from them. She's dipped in a glorious purple light, the inferno around her shaped like a bird - a raven. "Rachel?"

"Yes," Gar laughs, sharing a hopeful look with Rachel. "Yeah, it's us."

"He's here mostly, but he's also there," Trigon comes close, kneeling in front of them, and Gar practically hisses at him. "his mind is split right down the middle."

"Fix it," Rachel shouts. "Help him."

Trigon shrugs nonchalantly. "He'd resist me now." he says, adding, "you however,"

Dick lulls his head to the side when it grows too heavy, sinking back, but Gar catches him and cradles his head, using his body to keep him sitting upright.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asks. "I can't."

"For the likes of us, the word can't, does not exist," Trigon crosses the short distance keeping he and his daughter apart and cups her face. "Your friend is in pain. He's caught between two realities and it's pulling him apart, cell by cell."

Rachel looks down at he and Gar, and her fists clench.

Dick groans. His skin twitches violently, as though it's peeling back from the bone and a scream tears from his throat. Gar presses down on him, the kid's heavier than he looks, and it's too much – the pressure, underneath it he'll snap, he knows it, but Gar holds on. And please, god, it hurts. All of him hurts.

"Rachel," Gar cries, and a tear spills across his mouth. "Something's happening."

"Can't br-breath," Dick wheezes out, as his body is wracked by deep, hitching breaths. He won't survive in this atmosphere – the air is too thick and too warm, strangling breath from him. Molten heat explodes through his veins and he jerks, and writhes, screaming hard, until his throat grows hot and tight, his voice turning raw as his chest rattles.

Rachel rushes to his side and touches her hand to his cheek, flinching when she feels the heat beating off him. "I'm so sorry," she weeps. "Please, be okay." Both her hands bracket his face and slide up to his temples, and then she closes her eyes.

His eyes fall shut as a cool relief travels through his veins, putting out little fires along the way. The wrecking ball slamming the inside of his skull turns to ash, a whisper of it left in her wake. He can feel her. She moves through him like a chill from the night air, quenching fires and disappearing ghosts. He shivers, too powerless and weak to do anything else.

Every part of his mind she touches cools. The blood stops racing through his body. His heart unclenches, and his body turns soft. Reaching up, he grabs her hands, holding them in place and hopes to god he isn't hurting her, because he needs this relief, this moment of peace.

She moves deeper, beyond the veil of his fractured mind, gently pulling his memories free from the grip of Trigon's multi-sensory prison, untwisting his body inside skin. She cuts through interwoven realties with warm surgical hands, separating his world from the one too stubborn to let go, but when it finally does, a powerful ease descends over him.

And then Kory's voice plays on the inside of him, and Gars, and Donna's – memories he can feel Rachel drawing on. It unties his angry, wrinkled lungs and slips beneath muscle turned rock solid, making them supple again.

His entire body sighs, and he sinks into Gar. When he dares to open his eyes again, he isn't looking through flames anymore, he sees them clear and crisp. Rachel and Gar staring down at him, one with tears in their eyes and the other horror stricken. "I'm okay," he finally says. "thank you. Both of you."

"Bravo, girl," Trigon applauds. "I knew you could do it. You should have more faith in yourself."

Dick glowers at Trigon and his body turns rigid.

"Can you stand?" Gar asks, and cups his hand, pulling him up to his feet when he nods.

He bends his body, rediscovering its elasticity. Fatigue presses into him but he manages to steady on his feet.

"I'm mildly impressed by your mental durability," Trigon stands by the front door like a barricade and with a quick flick of his eyes, he finds Angela at the kitchen door. At her feet is the body of a male in a pool of blood, fanning out from beneath him. His badge is hitched to his belt.

"You killed a cop?" Dick snarls.

Rachel follows his line of sight and her shoulders sag. Gar is avoiding looking over there at all.

"An old friend," Angela offers with a mirthless grin. "Nothing to worry your pretty head about."

A flash of Hank sinks into him, a memory of him bleeding out after taking a bullet that wasn't meant for him. It wasn't - isn't real, but he still feels the warm, sticky blood on his hands, staining his clothes. With a deep breath, he coaches himself out - taking a quick survey of their surroundings. He makes a rough calculation of the distance between the sheriff station and where they are by foot, marks all the exits, windows and possible makeshift weapons, such as the splintered table legs on the floor, and lets Hank slip away. He reasons, his body is a quivering mass of muscle and bone grinding under the skin, but he can't collapse just yet, not until they're in the _after_.

Trigon steps away from the door with his hands clasped together. "I have to say, your bond with the alien was – a riveting plot twist."

Gar stands a toe in front of Dick and Rachel follows suit, despite his best but mostly weak efforts to stop them. He's supposed to be the one protecting them not the other way around. "After everything you've been through," Gar says quietly, for Dick and Rachel's ears only. "It's our turn to protect you." He offers a sheepish grin. "You should stand back though."

Trigon smiles. "I like this." He confesses, gesturing towards the teens as he threatens to take another step. "Courage is true power."

Gar growls. But it isn't an angry teenager's growl, it's an inhuman, guttural sound tearing free from the deep cave of his chest, from the heart. A sound so loud the walls tremble. And when he unclenches his fists, large green fingers unfurl with vicious nails on the end tipped in blood, his blood.

Dick startles, reeling back as though he's been hit square with a bullet as Gar explodes out of his skin, into a six foot, four hundred-pound silverback gorilla with sharp teeth. "Gar," he chokes out, his eyes wild and searching for the teen inside the beast. To see if it was real, and if it was, to make sure he was okay, and still him. He is shaky on his feet as he moves in its line of sight, and their eyes meet.

Gar turns to him and he knows he's still in there, that it's still him, by the way he holds a protective arm between he and Trigon, the way his eyes soften towards him. He isn't in some surreal dream, thrust into yet another trick – it's the humorous, unassuming, movie obsessed teenager who snores at the back of his car/van, mumbling obscure cult movie references in his sleep. Oh shit, this is crazy, and probably way beyond what he can handle, but if they get out of this, he knows in his bones, he will have to, because that's who he wants to be. That's who he's going to be. The one kids like Gar and Rachel can turn to.

Then Rachel's voice is in his head, soft like a breeze against his skin when she enters, with whispers.

"Beautiful." Trigon breezes out, staring up at the green gorilla. "Absolutely beautiful."

* * *

Kory lunges forward with a gasp, her breath harsh in her chest. It takes several moments to figure out where she is (Donna's lap) and when she is, but when it becomes clear as she looks up at Donna, her hands fly up to her chest with relief. "It worked." She pants. Her skin, goose pimpled, shivers against the night air. "He's awake."

"Fuck me," Donna leans over and presses a sloppy, wet kiss to Kory's forehead. "You actually did it." She helps her to sit up and uncurls her feet from underneath her to stand up. "Are you good – can you stand?"

"I don't know," Kory says, but takes Donna's hand anyway, climbing to her feet. "I think I am. I feel – everything feels," she frowns, and looks up. "I don't know."

Donna raises her eyebrow at that. "A side effect that will wear off – eventually," she offers, as she shimmies out of her coat, letting it fall to the ground. "Whatever you did, it messed with this shimmer."

It was Kory's turn to watch her, but with curiosity, or scepticism, she hadn't decided when she noticed the large gold and silver-plated cuffs on each of her wrists. "We went back to the truck," she breathes out, still a little winded. "for your jewellery?"

Donna smirks. "Remember you said that," she stands in front of Kory, holding her arm out and adds, "stand back," before turning back to the shimmer. She steps one leg back and slams the cuffs together, and from it, a pulse of golden energy shudders out, engulfing everything in its path, bringing the house into focus.

Kory feels the air prickle and stumbles onto her backside as it whooshes back.

Donna turns to her and bares her teeth, an 'oops', "I told you to stand back." She says, holding her hand out, an apology. "Shall we?"

"Your apology needs work." Kory takes her hand.

* * *

Gar leans onto his giant knuckles, warning Trigon with an earth-shaking roar.

Trigon's lips go thin like a blade as he moves behind the sofa, settling Angela as she rushes to his side with a feather touch to her elbow. "Quite a trick,"

"You're outnumbered," Rachel says. "Kory and Dick's friend are coming any minute, we're going to stop you."

Trigon smiles, and Angela hugs his shoulder. "Isn't this the part where all her friends die screaming?" she asks.

"Don't be so blood thirsty," he frowns at Angela and tuts, turning to the trio, with a winning grin. "Stop me from what? I haven't done anything - yet?

The house begins to rock, everything inside rattling as a rumbling sound rolls over the rooftop, bringing with it a powerful wind that shatters all the glass as it blows through, almost tearing the door off its hinges. Dick dives over Rachel and crashes to the floor, tucking her under him and shielding her from the flying glass and debris.

Glancing up, he waits as it passes, finding Angela cowering behind Trigon, who stands like a statue unharmed, and Gar who stands in front of them unflinching, and powerful.

Footsteps approach, and from the dark night, Donna and Kory emerge, both possessed with rage. The lasso is snaked around his best friend's fist. "Trigon, I take it," she says, dispassionately. Her eyes flit up to the gorilla and her mouth falls open.

"It's Gar," Dick grunts as he stands, pulling Rachel up with him, mostly to disarm Donna before she attacks – as the green, he knows already gave him away to Kory, though it doesn't stop her from being stunned. He swallows and both relief and terror grip him when he locks eyes with her, finally he breathes, and the ache in his chest shakes loose. He wants to feel her and make sure she's real, and her eyes say, me too.

Trigon ties his hands behind his back. "My name precedes me,"

Rachel dusts splintered wood and glass from her clothes. "I'll never join you," she says. "I'll never come to your side. And with my friends here, you can't win."

"Yes," Trigon sighs. "I do see how you'd think the odds are stacked against me. And you definitely have more friends than I imagined possible for a girl with your proclivities."

"I suggest," Dick steps forward, standing in front of Gar protectively, despite his beast mode. "You go back to wherever the hell you came from," he clenches his jaw and fists.

Trigon huffs out a laugh. "I admit. Rarely am I caught unawares, but," pointing between Dick and Kory, he clicks his tongue against his teeth. "this was pleasant to watch," and then he turns to Rachel. "But you were and are especially impressive."

"Get out of here," Rachel warns.

"Oh, come on, baby," Angela coos. "this is what you've always wanted. A family." She holds her arms out. "Well, it's here, right in front of you."

"You stay away from her," Kory shouts, and Gar adds power to the threat with his own roar.

Trigon's eyes are trained on Rachel and she squirms under the scrutiny of them. Dick glances over at Kory, and she looks every bit as beaten up as he feels with the way her posture hangs and her eyes glaze over. She takes a step in and he taps two fingers against his thigh, a signal to stay put. The last thing they need is to irritate the situation. He felt Trigon's power coursing through him, and he knows they are no match without a planned and coordinated attack.

"Come with me," Trigon sings. "It'll be fun. I promise." He curls his fingers and draws her right to him. "I don't think you even know how powerful you are, do you?" he asks, triumphantly, proud to know something the rest of the class doesn't. "The growth and progression of your abilities – your powers, much like the alien's, is fuelled by strong emotion," He smiles then. "and you played to that advantage without even knowing it. Saved your friend from me." A dark shine eclipses the ice blue of his eyes. "Now imagine what you could do – if you let me show you how, as only I can."

Dick edges closer to them, and Trigon's attention lands on him. "He's trying to get inside your head, Rachel. Don't let him."

"How are you feeling, Dick?" Trigon asks with feigned concern. "I imagine yourself and the alien," he turns momentarily to regard her and bows. "Koriand'r, was it," and then turns back to Dick. "are feeling a little worse for wear," he narrows his eyes. "You're in no state to sneeze, let alone challenge me."

"Oh, shut up." Donna interjects. "You may be powerful and ugly as hell where you come from, but you're not the only one in this room with a little juice," she whips her lasso and it burns bright as it comes to life.

"I would prefer to keep this suit," he sighs, tugging on his blazer. "wrinkle-free." He holds both hands up as if to surrender and smiles. "But I guess exceptions can be made." Then slowly, he closes one into a fist, and Dick gasps, wheezing as Trigon evaporates the air from his lungs.

Donna sends her lasso for Trigon and it cuts through the air, lashing its tail around his neck. The force of it sends Angela tumbling back, and before he can untangle it, Rachel is releasing a black tornado to capture her mother in its grip.

Kory screams and her entire body combusts into bright, vicious flames as she shoots everything she has into him. As he catches fire, Gar stampedes through the sofa, ramming him through three layers of wall into the night, leaving plaster and brick crumbling to the floor in their wake.

* * *

Gar's roar echoes in the distance, and Dick, after catching his breath, crawls over to the hole, his chest pounding as he breathes in. "Gar," he calls, as Kory and Donna join him. But it's too dark to see a thing out there. "Gar."

Kory slides against the wall and Donna rushes to catch her, steadying her upright. "I've got you."

"Your rope," Kory says, weakly.

"Can you stop calling it that," Donna whines, pulling Kory around her shoulder. "It has a name." with a sigh, she taps her arm. "Sit this one out maybe,"

"I'm going out there," Dick turns to Rachel, taking she and her mother in. "Rachel?" he starts, "let her go." A loud cry pulls his attention back to the hole in the wall. He squints against the night as a small dot flies towards them, growing larger as it draws closer until it comes into focus. He dives out of the way, dropping to the floor as the green tiger comes hurtling through the wall, crashing into the piano with a bone chilling yelp.

"Is he okay?" Rachel asks, cooly. Her stare flickering from black to blue.

Dick eats up the space between he and Gar and kneels, cradling the tiger's head. "Hey," he says, gently, and then looks up. "He's hurt, can you do something?"

"Maybe he's meant to die," Angela sings. "It's the not the first time he's bled out on my floor."

"Shut up," Rachel's voice rattles, her blue lips trembling as the black mass pouring around Angela gets a little smaller.

"Hey," Dick stands up and moves towards her, slowly. "Rachel. Look at me. She just wants you to lose control."

"It's all her fault," Rachel screams and the black veins under eyes, now black holes, pulsate viciously. "She did all of this. Everything she said was a lie. She's a liar."

"Don't give in." Dick holds his hand out. "Listen to me, Gar needs you." He says. "I need you. We all do. Let her go and come help him."

"Rachel, please." Kory calls, weakened, and pouring over Donna limbless. "Help Gar."

Rachel looks between Kory and Dick, and with an exhale, her eyes turn blue – then widen in horror. Dick turns, and the entire wall begins crumbling, brick by brick until there's nothing but sky, and Trigon, levitating towards them.

He lands on his feet and sends Donna flying into the wall with a flick of his wrist. Vines burst through plaster, brick and wallpaper to tie around her arms and legs, pinning her there. Kory falls to her knees, empty.

Sighing deeply, he dusts the dirt from his shoulder, before unbuttoning his blazer, now tattered and burnt. His suit is a mess, but he remains in perfect condition. Donna's lasso still hangs from around his neck, untarnished as he removes it. "Let Angela go, sweet child," he says without sparing her a glance. "that's no way to treat your mother,"

Rachel looks at Dick, asking for permission to hold her, but he shakes his head. His mind splitting in several directions as he plays out as many ends to this scenario as he can conjure, but his mind, still weary, keeps spinning out, and then he has to start all over again.

"No," Rachel says, defiantly, and her eyes turn obsidian black, shining like marble.

"Darling girl," Trigon looks at her with a deep frown, and sighs. "come now, be good." He glowers at her, and his jaw clenches tight, but she doesn't relent.

"You'll lose," Rachel laughs. "you can't control me – just like you couldn't make Dick loyal to you. He was stronger -,"

Trigon bunches his hand into a fist and Dick folds in half, and they all scream as he thrusts him up against the ceiling and pins him there. Terror turns Rachel's face ghost white and her eyes flicker. "I'm sorry, dear, go on."

Dick attempts to pull free from his imperceptible restraints, but it holds him firm, as Trigon closes in on Rachel. Gar lays helpless and panting at the foot of the piano, bleeding, while Donna fights and struggles to break free and Kory fights her own body to stand, as it continues to betray her.

But Dick doesn't panic or get angry, he can't afford to, because while he may be powerless, it doesn't mean he's helpless. Settling back, he closes his eyes and sinks into the deepest recedes of his mind, seeking the voice and wisdom of his oldest friend, Bruce: "Anchors can be memories, thoughts or emotions, but they can be people too." He had said. "Find the anchor that grounds you and let go of the one that pulls you adrift, that's how you win a fight. You have to be five steps ahead of everyone you come into contact with, Dick."

Dick opens his eyes.

"It's you who is stronger than I thought. You see, child," he continues, closing the gap between he and Rachel. He takes her hand into his and she doesn't resist. "I don't have plans for Dick Grayson, I never did. Truthfully, what would I need him for, except maybe, to appeal to you. The girl in you." Reaching up with his free hand, he strokes the back of his hand down her cheek. "But that girl isn't who you really are, is she?"

"Stop it," Rachel whimpers and lets go of Angela.

He pulls away, and looks at the panting tiger. "and there are other ways to win your loyalty."

"Leave him alone," Kory growls.

"I do remember imparting some sound advice when we first met," Trigon says. "Something about lowering one's expectations tonight. Frankly, I'm shocked by all the aggression."

Dick bides his time, but the look on Kory's face, the fire simmering between her fingers gives him pause. It won't work. Nothing but Rachel will. She is the only one who can stop him because she is the only thing he wants – needs. She is his only weakness. "Kory." He calls, but she is drunk on fear and rage.

Kory blasts Trigon with a bolt of fire, but he catches it and sucks it into his body like a black hole, consuming and destroying matter, and disappears the flames. He wags his fingers at Kory and raises his hand as she slinks back when a ropey black substance curls around his arm.

"No," Rachel screams long and loud, until the house is rattling, and the lights are flickering. She falls onto her knees.

Trigon kneels in front of her, lifting her chin up. "Dick was a test," he shares. "a chance for me to see the other you, the real you," and wipes the tears from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Angela joins them and lifts Rachel onto her feet. She brushes her hair back, carding her fingers through it, and smiles. "Don't be afraid of it,"

"What test?" Rachel asks.

"I gave you a playground to run free in," he whispers, and points to the ceiling. "a Dick Grayson sized playground, and while this-," he shudders. "emotional wreck's worst fears played out, I watched you." His eyes twinkled. "Your every move. Your every choice."

Rachel cries. "I tried to help him. You wouldn't let him me help him."

"Oh, but you did help him, and me. You used your relationships with them and their relationship with each other to your advantage, placed obscure cues for their subliminal minds to pick up." His laugh is gleeful. "the purple and the water was a nice touch." He gestures picking something from its root. "You plucked her memories like fruit and let them float up to the surface to keep her fragile mind from collapsing under its weight. You showed tremendous restraint."

"I tried-i wanted," Rachel stutters. "I-,"

"Hey dickhead," Donna calls. "Pick on someone your own size."

"Preferably, back in your own dimension," Kory adds, faintly.

And on any other day, breathing free air, Dick would question what he'd done bringing those two together, but there were matters more pressing for the time being. Mainly, the psyche of a powerful demon from another dimension visting upon his teenage daughter. He watched Trigon dance around Rachel with his soft-spoken words and disguised promises and let Bruce's voice coach him: as long as rage dictates to you, the enemy will remain out of your reach. "He's trying to convince you of how similar the two of you are, trying to get into your head, but you're stronger than him. Tell her the truth - tell her you're here to use her."

"I'm trying to tell my daughter a story." Trigon cranes his neck to the side, stretching deep, and squeezes his fist, making Dick grunt in pain.

"Stop it," Rachel cries.

"The alien is a formidable warrior from another world – but inside your playground, just a woman falling for a man." He gazes at Angela. "I'd say the promise of love was more powerful than any fire she could summon," and then he looks up at Dick. "he was a ghost drifting through time, desperate to be tethered to a purpose, to find meaning and he did, and it terrified him. He discovered a strong anchor in the warrior, and his purpose in you." Sobering, he spins Rachel around and let's go. "But you knew that, you felt it even before they did, and you used it. You used them." He slow claps. "Well played. Only a child of mine could win at a game she had no idea she was even playing."

"I'm scared," Rachel whimpers, her eyes ablaze with rage. "I don't want this thing, this dark thing." She looks to him and Angela. "What am I supposed to do, what do you want from me?"

"For you to see how much power you have, given the right motivation." He whistles and the tiger stirs. "Your humanity is your greatest strength."

Gar stands up and shakes his head and his eyes glow red. He stalks towards Kory, growling and hissing at her.

"but humanity is malleable," he whistles again and Gar trots over to his side and sits down at his heel. Trigon reaches down and strokes his head. "and so, it makes yours – your attachments to these humans your greatest weakness."

"Let him go." Rachel cries, defeated.

Dick falls from the ceiling and the air is punched out of him when he lands, bouncing off his chin. He rolls onto his back, coughing, and cups his side. His chest is unbearably tight, and he presses his fingers to his ribs to keep them from falling apart under his skin.

"Oh, you meant the beast," Trigon says, exuberantly. "I don't know, I've grown quite fond of Gar in the brief time I've gotten to know him."

"Please," Rachel makes hesitant steps towards him until they're face to face, and she gingerly circles her hand around his waist. "Dad, please." She pleads. "Tell me something real - about you."

"That's simple." Trigon says, more woeful now. "I just want to get to know my daughter."

"Rachel," Dick coughs, turning onto his side, and pushes himself up off the floor with a hop. He has a twisted ankle to add to the list injuries ailing his already wrung-out body.

"Will you leave my friends alone?" Rachel swallows. "No tricks, or mind games. No control."

Trigon places his hand over his heart. "You have my word." And it almost sounds genuine.

"No," Kory growls, leaning up against the door as she stands. "the girl stays,"

"Kory," Dick says weakly.

"It's okay," Rachel smiles at her, and then turns to her dad. "Let Gar go."

Trigon looks at the tiger and the tiger looks back at him, and then those enchanting red eyes fade away, leaving the big, soft green they all know. He leaps behind what's left of the piano and moments later, his hand shoots up as he braces his weight against the instrument, pulling himself up.

"You can't go," Gar cries, leaning against it for support.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks.

"It's just a scratch now," he says. "Don't go with him."

"I have to do this. I think I need to." Rachel says, and Angela fixes her hair behind her ear. "This is all because of me. It's the only way to know you'll all be safe." She turns to her father. "You're right. You are the only who can help me, so I'll go with you, just don't hurt my friends anymore."

"Done," Trigon says.

"Kid, do you know what you're doing?" Donna asks.

Rachel nods.

"Rae," Kory cries, her forehead creased with worry.

"I'm sorry for everything," Rachel cries. "I love you, too."

Dick lunges forward and Rachel freezes him in mid-air with her hand, watching every part of him grow stiff as the air solidifies around him.

"You have to let me go," she says with a choked sob. "You can't help me. I need my dad. Please, Dick." She's smiling at him as if it's all okay, but it's not, none of this is okay. And then her voice creeps in his head again, as clear as his own, shushing his worries, telling him she knows what she's doing.

"After you," Trigon bows.

"Thank you. Dick. Thank all of you." She breathes out, pressing her chin to her chest and when she looks up her face has turned to ash once more. Black bleeds into her eyes and veins as she opens her arms, summoning a portal that rips the air apart, swirling with purple nebulous light, its strength pushing her hair and cloak back.

"They're not your family." Dick's voice quivers.

"I know." Rachel smiles, and steps into the portal, disappearing in its light.

Trigon presses his hand against Angela's chest when she moves towards him. "I'm afraid this is where our love affair ends, dear." She pauses, and he kisses her cheek. "thank you, she really is beautiful."

Angela's eyes water. "You said I would stand by your side when you reordered the world." She cries. "I waited for you. I-I killed for you."

"And it was all worth it," he strokes her hair. "you reunited your only daughter with her father." Leaning in, he brushes his lips to hers one last time. "my most loyal servant." And with that he backs away, with a look of pity that makes her shrink.

"Hey, asshole," Dick shouts. "I'll see you soon."

With that Trigon steps back into the portal.

"No," Angela screams, running for the portal and dives through the air as it closes around her arm with a singeing burn before it disappears, sucking all the light and air with it. She crashes to the ground, holding her stub in stunned silence, her eyes almost white like her face and bewildered.

* * *

Dick crumbles to the floor, holding his side and Donna unpeels herself from the wall, jumping down and landing solid on her feet. She rushes to his side and snatches his face into her hand to give him the once over. "I'm okay."

"I'll be the judge of that," Donna scowls.

The lights return, abuzz with new, brighter energy, that forces Dick to wince.

Gar steps out from behind the piano with wobbly legs, and Kory rushes to him as he buckles, catching him and falling to the floor with him in her arms.

Donna stands quickly, pulling the throw off the sofa and hurling it at Kory. "Here," she says, smiling solemnly when Kory nods, and then she's kneeling back at Dick's side. She cradles him, and he's too tired and broken to resist the comfort, but his eyes are on Kory, and hers are on him – reality has been clicking in a bit a time, but he's most grateful for the dose of her.

Angela sobers with a gasp, the color returning to her face, and looks down at her amputated arm, screaming until all the blood rushes into her cheeks.

Donna helps Dick into the sofa and stands. "Do I have to do everything?" she groans, walking over to Angela, and slams her fist into the woman's face. She huffs and pulls her top down as she slumps to the floor like a plank of wood. She loosens her belt and kneels down, wrapping around Angela's arm, and huffs when she stands again.

The morning light washes over the room, pastel oranges and yellows shining through the side of the house where the wall was, with not a cloud in the sky.

Donna drops onto the sofa and uses her hand as a visor. "I need coffee."

BANG.

They all flinch as the door slams, splintering under a thunderclap of pressure.

BANG.

The door splits in half and falls off its hinges with Hank standing on the other side, big shouldered, big footed, sandy blonde, Hank. "The Calvary's here," he says, and his voice booms like a giant's. And God, Dick could cry, because it's true, Hank is here and he's alive, so is Dawn.

He and Dawn step in and both case the place, taking in the destroyed living room, a missing wall and an amputee sleeping on the floor, plus a very naked Gar under a sheet, which garners a quizzical brow from Hank. "Well, shit," he says. "What'd you do now, Grayson?"

And Dick laughs, deliriously, uncontrollably, and uncharacteristically for several minutes. He could hug Hank right now because he is so relieved and horrified in the same moment knowing everything he lived through was a lie, but had still happened. That Dawn stands there, when the last time he saw her she was in a coma.

"It's been a long night," Donna exclaims.

Dawn looks at Dick, her eyes growing wide with concern. "Dick, where's Rachel?"

Behind them, Jason comes skidding in, pushing them out of his way and pauses, looking around at each of them before his shoulders deflate. "Did we miss the party?"

"Dick," Dawn shouts. "where the hell is the girl?"

"She's gone," Kory sighs. "Trigon took her."

"Who the fuck's Trigon?" Hank spits, and Dawn gently cups his arm.

"So, what comes next?" Dawn asks.

Dick scoots of the sofa and slowly his arm falls from his side. He hasn't a clue how he's going to pull his unravelled muscle, bone and brain back together, but that's the least of his worries because Rachel has a plan, and he needs all of them to exact it.

He glances over at Kory as she helps Gar up, and then at Donna as she comes to his side and faces Hank, Dawn and Jason, swallowing hard. "We're going to find them – but in order to do that, I'm going to need help, from all of you. We need to work together despite our differences -,"

"I'm in," Jason interjects.

"In what, exactly?" Hank asks.

Dick isn't sure his ready to lead, but he is sure that he doesn't have a choice because Rachel needs all of them. He needs all of them. The words she left in his mind before she disappeared behind the light repeats over and over again: "I know what I'm doing. And I know you're going to find me. All of you. Trust me." And he should tell them. He will tell them, but first this. He breathes in deep. "in this team," he says. "but you're going to have to trust me, otherwise,"

"I'm in," Jason repeats, cracking his knuckles.

"Kid, would you shut the fuck up?" Hank cries. "Jesus." he shakes his head. "He's been juiced up the whole way here. No naps or nothing, just going for hours."

"Hank," Dawn whispers, "come on."

"It's chill, Dawn," Jason smirks. "Really, I'll deflate his blow-up muscles soon as my friend here gets done with his vigilantes call to arms speech."

"I swear to god," Hank growls.

"Hey," Dick yells, and they all turn to him. "Knock it off. Both of you." He says. "We have an asshole to send back to hell before he snaps this world in half and takes a shit on it. We don't have time for this. Rachel needs us. Innocent people need us. So, we either do this together or we sit on our asses and wait for the world to end." he straightens his back, looking each of them in the eye. "I know which one I choose."

Donna smiles at him, teasing, and proud at the same time, and he nods.

The emptiness, the loss of his parents had been hibernating inside of him for so long, he hadn't realized until now, that it wasn't the only thing he had anymore – he had a purpose, he'd always had a purpose. And he had people he cared about too, people he wanted to protect, was going to protect. "So who's in?"

Maybe he didn't need Robin after all. Maybe what he needed was to become something else entirely, something better, and stronger. Maybe he could become more than a vigilante, and make something good out of this band of misfits again. They could become a symbol of hope and justice, maybe even heroes.

/End


End file.
